


under the pale moon

by lscar123



Series: warm skin, wolf grin [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Alpha Laura Hale, Alternate Season/Series 02, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Derek is Not a Failwolf, F/M, Here Comes Gerard, Laura Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Laura is a Good Alpha, M/M, Magic, No Kanima but there's something out there, Sequel, Violence, none of this will make sense if you didn't read i fell into the moon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-22
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-07-01 06:32:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 129,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15768549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lscar123/pseuds/lscar123
Summary: Four months afteri fell into the moon, the Pack is growing.Stiles is still learning to adjust to what happened to him that night at the Nemeton, Derek is still constantly surprised at the happiness he has found in Beacon Hills, and Laura is still learning what it means to be an Alpha of a pack that consists of more than just herself and her brother.The relative quiet of the summer is shattered by a mysterious death, and Gerard takes the opportunity to make his move after months of waiting.





	1. All Shook Up

**Author's Note:**

>  
> 
> First, let me say that this would not be coming to you this quickly if it wasn't for my savior, beta, and new personal jesus, [Crimsonette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimsonette/pseuds/Crimsonette). She reached out on the last chapter of _i fell into the moon_ and offered to beta read the rest of the series and I honestly could not be more grateful. I wasn't planning on starting work on it so soon but having the weight of editing taken off my shoulders, along with someone who I could talk about the future of the series and bounce ideas/spoilers off of, motivated me to get to work and I've been on a steady roll over the last month or so. Everyone give her a shout out and tell her how amazing she is because there would be no sequel right now without her. She also made me a wonderful character banner after I published this chapter, so I'm editing it in now! 
> 
> I have about two months worth of weekly updates written, and once i finish the story completely we'll switch to twice a week updates
> 
> This is a direct sequel to _i fell into the moon_ , it takes place about four months after the end of the final chapter and continues on directly with the plot. If you haven't read _i fell into the moon_ , I highly recommend going back and doing so because none of this chapter will make any sense! 
> 
> I'm still blown away by how much love i got for _i fell into the moon_ , and I hope you guys like this one just as much!

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

All Shook Up

 

The headlights of the jeep washed across the darkened road. The reflectors in between the two lanes glinted as Stiles’ jeep careened down the road, the wheels threatening to tip off the pavement as he hit a sharp curve. He didn’t know where he was going, or why he was trying to get there so fast, but he felt an invisible thread guiding him to the unknown destination. He felt like there was someone behind him, even when he glanced in the rearview mirror and found the road lifeless.

Stiles cut his eyes from the mirror back to the road, and immediately slammed on the breaks when he saw a dark figure standing in the center of the lane. The tires squealed, smoke rising from either side of the jeep as it slid along the pavement. He didn’t stop in time though, and the front of the jeep collided with the figure.

It all happened as if the world was moving in slow motion. Stiles saw the exact moment of impact when the jeep hit the figure, except the figure didn’t go flying through the air or get sucked under the jeep as one would expect. Stiles watched as the front of the jeep caved in, a sharp V forming around the body of the still darkened figure. It was like his jeep hit a pole instead of a person.

Stiles felt himself go weightless as the jeep flipped. It was repelled off the dark figure, the back tires lifting from the ground first and sending it flying head over heels. For a brief moment, Stiles was entirely aware that he was upside down. It didn’t look all that different from when he hung off the side of his bed and looked at his room from a different perspective, except this time Stiles knew that the impact would be much more severe if he hit his head.

The dark figure was gone now, vanished into the darkness of the thin air. The jeep felt weightless for a second longer, discarded water bottles falling from the floorboard of the passenger’s seat and pelting the roof of the jeep right before it smashed into the ground.

The impact was jarring, earthshattering. Stiles immediately felt the pain lance through his body, felt the shards of glass ripping into his skin as the windshield shattered and littered the car with shrapnel. He closed his eyes, squeezing them as tight as he could to prevent any glass from getting into his eyes. He might survive this, but he didn’t want to walk out of it blind. His ears were ringing, but Stiles figured the worst of it was over. His seatbelt was still on, and he could move his neck so he was pretty sure it wasn’t broken.

He reached for the door, his hands scrambling in the darkness to find the handle. When he did, he pulled, and was relieved to find that it wasn’t jammed. The door popped open with only a minor push, and now all Stiles had to do was get himself out of his seatbelt. That would be the worst part, the second he took it off he would drop to the roof of the jeep. The roof that was currently littered with thousands of shards of glass. He found the release button for the seatbelt, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then he hit it.

Stiles’ body dropped faster than he’d expected it to, and he screamed when he felt the glass pierce through his skin like microscopic splinters. He was alive though, and there were plenty of werewolves available to take his pain while someone fished the glass out of his skin with a pair of tweezers.

He tucked his body as tightly as he could and rolled out of the open door, wincing as the glass cut into him even more. He could move his legs, which relieved him beyond belief. He would have been so pissed if he’d recovered from a broken leg only to break it again. The pavement was cold when he pressed his hands to it, but Stiles used all the strength he could muster to push his body up from the ground to stand. He braced himself against the side of the car and could feel the warmth from the still running engine.

Stiles looked up and down each side of the road, but there was no sign of anyone else. Whoever, or whatever, had been in the middle of the highway was gone. There was nothing around for miles, not that Stiles even knew where he was to begin with. His phone wasn’t in his pocket, which meant he either didn’t have it or it was smashed to death in the wreckage of his car.

The radio from inside the jeep crackled to life, static echoing through its ruined husk. Words started flowing out of the speakers rapidly, aborted song lyrics and advertisements stuttering and starting again like someone was rapidly changing the dial. The radio let out an ear-piercing shriek so loud Stiles had to cover his ears and take several steps away from the jeep. It quieted for a moment, and then after a beat of silence that felt just a few seconds too long to be accidental, [the radio flared to life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsRNCvHXHHU).

_I go out walkin' after midnight_

_Out in the moonlight, just like we used to do_

_I'm always walkin' after midnight_

_Searchin' for you_

Stiles stared at the jeep and tried to ignore the prickling feeling of dread on the back of his neck. The air felt colder now, heavier. His head twisted to either side but there was still no one on the road, and all that was behind his back was the dense forest. The jeep continued to hum while the music filtering out through the broken windows sounded like it was growing louder.

_I walk for miles along the highway_

_Well, that's just my way of sayin' I love you_

_I'm always walkin' after midnight_

_Searchin' for you_

Something rumbled on the other side of the jeep, a loud, scraping noise that sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Or claws on metal.

The air grew heavier, and suddenly Stiles couldn’t stand to be near the jeep any longer. He backed away from it, never once turning his back to the lifeless hunk of metal. He didn’t turn until he was into the woods when he felt he was a safe distance away from whatever was on the other side of the jeep. He spun on his heel and broke off into a run, dodging through the underbrush and doing his best to avoid tripping over rocks and roots. But no matter how far he ran, he could still hear the music screaming from the jeep.

_I stop to see a weepin' willow_

_Cryin' on his pillow_

_Maybe he's cryin' for me_

_And as the skies turn gloomy_

_Night winds whisper to me_

_I'm lonesome as I can be_

He stopped running almost immediately as the familiarity of where he was set in. He knew the space like the back of his hand, the woods around him were almost etched into the backs of his eyelids. He saw them at least once a week in his dreams, or nightmares.

The Nemeton.

But something was different this time. The Nemeton was whole. Gone was the stump that Stiles had been strapped to and bled out on, and in its place was a thriving tree twisting high towards the sky. The trunk was impossibly thick, thicker than any tree Stiles had ever seen. The leaves were bright, almost glowing under the moonlight.

“I am growing.”

And now the tree was talking to him.

That was just wonderful.

A sound came from above Stiles, the flapping of wings across the still night sky. He looked up, craning his neck in every direction to try and find the source of the sound. The wings flapped again, again, and again. Something flew in front of the moon for just the briefest of seconds, long enough for Stiles to make out the massive wingspan before it swooped down into the Nemeton. The leaves rustled, and the branches creaked, something was nesting itself in the Nemeton.

Stiles took another step forward, and then the world around him began to shake.

 

X

 

“Stiles,” Derek’s frantic voice was enough to wake him slightly, “Stiles, come on. You have to get up. Something is about to happen.”

Stiles could feel Derek’s hands on his shoulder, could feel how the rough skin of his palms burned against his bare skin. He couldn’t force himself to open his eyes though, too lost in his dream. Or was it a nightmare? It wasn’t outlandishly terrifying, but it was unsettling enough to feel like it shouldn’t qualify as a dream.

“Fuck it.” Stiles heard Derek whisper, and then he felt a complete loss of gravity.

Stiles’ eyes snapped open the second his body went slack, “What the-”

All Stiles could see was the skin of Derek’s shoulder, and the rumpled bed he’d just been yanked out of. Derek had him in his arms, cradled like he was some kind of infant. Derek’s brow was furrowed, his nostrils flared, and his eyes were shining bright blue. Stiles immediately tensed for an attack, but what would be attacking him in his own home?

“Der?” Stiles mumbled, his voice still groggy with sleep.

“Stay close to me.” Derek said, his voice full of authority.

Derek stopped next to his desk, holding Stiles with one arm and grabbing the desk with the other. He pulled it away from the window and to the corner of the room. He kicked away their discarded clothes and sat Stiles down on the floor. Derek crouched down with him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him under the desk.

“Derek, what the fuck?” Stiles was beyond confused.

“Earthquake.” Derek said, opening his arms.

“What?” Was all Stiles could say before Derek was pulling him close and wrapping his body around him.

Before Stiles could ask how Derek could possibly know an earthquake was about to happen, the house began to shake. Derek’s arms tightened around him, and Stiles felt his own fingernails dig into Derek’s skin when he grabbed him back.

It was powerful, violent, and Stiles heard pictures falling downstairs, glass breaking as they crashed to the floor. The bookshelf closest to Stiles’ bed tipped over, landing on top of the bed right where Stiles would have been sleeping. Car alarms were going off outside, a cacophony of horns and wailing sirens.

It felt like the quake lasted forever, but it could have only been a few seconds before everything stopped. Stiles didn’t move, he just kept his grip on Derek. Derek’s steady breath against his ear was enough to ground him, to not let him freak out entirely. He looked back at the bed and wondered what the fuck would have happened if Derek hadn’t been there.

“It’s safe.” Derek said, “Are you OK?”

Stiles nodded, “Aftershocks?”

Derek paused, tipping his head to the side, “No.”

Stiles let out a long breath, “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” Derek said, releasing his grip on Stiles’ body and pressing their foreheads together.

“How did you do that?” Stiles asked.

Derek crawled out from under the desk, offering Stiles a hand to help him up, “I felt it.”

Stiles blinked at Derek after he stood, “Dude, you totally just went all service dog on me, didn’t you?”

“Shut up.” Derek glared at him.

Stiles laughed, grabbing Derek by the hips and pulling him in for a kiss, “Thank you, Lassie.”

Derek growled and bit at Stiles’ lip, “I hate when you call me that.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say, Balto.”

Derek’s second angry growl was cut off by the ring of Stiles’ cell. Derek was already lifting the bookshelf off the bed, so Stiles ducked under him to grab the phone. His eyes went wide when he saw his dad’s name on the caller ID, he totally forgot he was on a shift tonight.

Stiles answered immediately, “Dad!”

“Oh, thank god.” His dad let out a sigh of relief, “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles said, “I’m totally fine. Derek was here and-”

Oops.

His dad was quiet for a moment, “Derek was there? The same Derek who you said _wasn’t_ going to be there when I called you earlier in the evening?”

Stiles risked a look over his shoulder at Derek and found him staring at Stiles with a book in his hand, and Stiles was pretty sure Derek was weighing the idea of throwing the book at his head. At least it was a softcover.

“Well, to be fair, if Derek wasn’t here I would have been crushed by my bookcase and I’d probably be dead.” Stiles said, probably a little too cavalier.

“What?!” His dad’s voice exploded.

He heard Derek sigh before plucking the phone from his hands, “Sheriff, it’s Derek.”

A pause.

“Yes sir, I know what he said.”

A pause.

“No sir, I felt it before it happened and woke Stiles up. He’s safe.”

A pause.

A sigh.

“Yes sir, like a service dog.”

Stiles’ face split into an enormous smile.

“Yes sir, I’ll tell him.”

Derek hung up the phone.

“Tell me what?” Stiles asked.

“You dad said there are reports of downed powerlines near here because of the quake, he doesn’t want you going anywhere.”

“Derek, it’s three in the morning.” Stiles yawned, “Where would I possibly go?”

Derek shrugged, “It’s summer vacation, it’s not like you wandering out of the house in the middle of the night is completely out of the realm of possibility.”

“True.” Stiles conceded.

Derek rubbed his eyes as he surveyed the room. It wasn’t too destroyed, but Stiles figured the worst damage was probably downstairs. His dad was going to have a busy night, the least they could do was clean things up for him. Stiles didn’t think he’d be able to get anymore sleep anyway, he wasn’t sure if the shaking feeling in his bones was an after effect of the earthquake or the nightmare he’d been having during it.

Derek lifted the bookshelf off the bed with one hand, and Stiles didn’t stare at the way his bicep flexed as he moved it to the wall furthest from Stiles’ bed. Stiles sighed, stretching his arms out to the side and cracking his neck as he felt the magic unfurl in his chest.

He’d been practicing a lot over the last four months, and something as simple as levitating the fallen books back to their places on the bookshelf was easy enough. The books danced through the air like something from Phantasia, swirling around until they formed an uneven stack on one of the shelves.

“Should you call Laura?” Stiles asked as he concentrated on alphabetically filing the books.

Derek held up his phone and turned the screen towards Stiles, “She just sent me a text. She’s fine, she’s at the apartment.”

Stiles grabbed his own phone, sending off texts to Lydia and Erica to ask if they were OK. Scott was out of town until tomorrow night so he didn’t have to worry about him, and Stiles was pretty sure he probably shouldn’t text Allison.

“Should we call Peter?” Stiles asked.

“I highly doubt an earthquake is going to be what takes out Peter,” Derek huffed out a laugh, “but if you want to be the one to wake him up then go ahead.”

Stiles shuddered, “I was just trying to be courteous! Peter’s part of the pack, and Isaac is…pack adjacent.”

“Pack adjacent?” Derek looked amused with a single raised eyebrow.

“I’m lacking for a better term,” Stiles sat down on the edge of the bed, “Peter’s current teenage ward, son of the man he killed, is a bit of a mouthful.”

“Isaac is emancipated, he just lives with Peter.” Derek corrected, “And his father’s death was ruled an accident.”

“An accident is better than an animal attack, I guess.” Stiles shrugged.

It didn’t take them long to clean up the rest of the house. Between Stiles’ magic and Derek’s strength, they finished clearing out all the broken glass and righting the furniture in a little under an hour. Stiles was exhausted, collapsing on the couch and rubbing the tender spot in the center of his chest. His hands tingled, his fingers felt heavy, and he leaned into the touch when Derek stood behind the couch and placed his hands on either side of Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles hummed, a small smile forming when Derek started to rub circles in his muscles, “You work today?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, increasing the pressure of his touch, “just a few hours in the afternoon.”

“I’ll come visit.” Stiles groaned, “We can make out behind the stacks.”

“No.” Derek said immediately.

“Derek!” Stiles whined, “It’s always been my fantasy to make out with a hot librarian.”

Derek was silent, and when Stiles looked up he found Derek’s head tilted to the side. His eyebrows rose and he blinked at Stiles.

“It’s terrifying that that wasn’t a lie.”

“You’re going to deny me my biggest fantasy?”

“I didn’t get a job so I could have more places to make out with you at.” Derek sighed.

“You got a job because you were bored,” Stiles clarified, “and because the previous person in your position was brutally murdered.”

Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, Stiles could still see poor Miss Dane on the floor, her body bloody and shredded to pieces. He could only deal with the memory by trying to add levity to it, which he knew was fucked up. Stiles shook his head and looked back at Derek, frowning at the look on Derek’s face that told Stiles that Derek knew exactly what he was thinking.

Derek walked around the couch, stopping when he was in front of Stiles. He reached out and ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair.

“Come.” Derek smiled, “Bring lunch though.”

Stiles looked up at Derek and smiled, ignoring the pain from his leg as his newly healed bone randomly began to throb.

 

X

 

Laura groaned as the other side of the bed shifted with the weight of someone getting out of it. She’d been sleeping perfectly, peacefully even, and now it was all ruined. She was further angered when the bedside lamp clicked on and the murky yellow light bled through the thin skin of her eyelids.

She grabbed blindly for a stray pillow, her eyes still closed, “Turn that fucking thing off or I’m throwing something at it.”

A soft laugh, followed by an even softer voice, was enough to get Laura to crack an eye open, “ _This_ is what wakes you up?” 

Laura opened her other eye, squinting as the light assaulted both of them. She would have shifted a bit, just enough for her eyes to bleed red, but she wasn’t in the kind of company she could do that around. She watched with a quirked eyebrow as he moved across the room, picking up stray pieces of a brown uniform that Laura had torn off of him a few hours earlier.

“Jordan,” Laura said calmly as she watched Jordan pull on a crisp white undershirt over his admittedly impressive chest, “why are you putting clothes _on_?”

Jordan laughed again, scrubbing his hand over his face, “You really did sleep through it, huh?”

“Sleep through what?” Laura yawned.

“The earthquake.” Jordan picked his gun belt up off the back of Laura’s desk chair and sat it on the edge of the bed.

Laura was alert now, she bolted upright in bed, “ _Earthquake_?”

Jordan nodded, “A few minutes ago, a pretty decent one.”

Laura was confused, and a little unsettled. She should have woken up before an earthquake even hit. She could remember a few times during her childhood when one hit Beacon Hills, the entire house full of werewolves would wake up a moment or two before the quake and drag whatever human member they were closest in proximity off to safety.

Jordan was just pulling on his boxers when Laura looked back at him, “Sheriff just called, he said it’s a little messy out there so he wants anyone who’s off duty to come in and keep the peace.”

The Sheriff. Stiles. Derek. The entire pack.

Laura tilted her head to the side to focus her hearing, trying to pick up Derek’s heartbeat on the floor below. She remembered a few seconds later that Derek was with Stiles, so she scrambled for her phone to text him. He replied half a second later, letting her know that both he and Stiles were safe.

She breathed out a sigh of relief before firing off several more texts to the rest of the pack. Her phone dinged a second later with a reply from Erica, safe. And another from Lydia, all good. There was no reply from Peter, but Laura wasn’t too worried about him. Peter could handle an earthquake just fine.

Laura sighed, reaching down to grab her shirt from the ground. She got out of bed, pulled it over her head, and ran a hand through her sleep tousled hair.

Jordan was almost fully dressed now, “Go back to sleep.”

Laura shook her head, “I’m up now, I should probably check out the damage here.”

“I didn’t hear anything fall.” Jordan said, “But I only woke up during the end of it.”

“And you just chilled in bed?” Laura asked with a grin.

“I’ll have you know,” Jordan pointed at her, “that I tried to cover your comatose body as much as I could with mine.”

And that…that made Laura feel things. Something, anything. She wasn’t equipped for rationally dealing with emotions, especially not at three in the morning. She shouldn’t even be having emotions for Jordan unless those emotions were related to fantastic sex they had.

“My hero.” Laura rolled her eyes.

Laura followed Jordan out into the hallway. A few picture frames had fallen off the wall, so Laura picked them up as she walked behind him. She had a stack of black picture frames by the time they made it to the living room, and Laura absently looked down at the photo on top of the stack and froze.

It was a picture of her and Derek, she had to have been about 18, which would have made Derek around 13 years old. She didn’t remember taking the picture, but it still hit her in the gut seeing it in the dim light of the apartment. Cora was bundled up in Laura’s arms, her little legs blurring in the photo as she flailed them trying to get away from Laura. Derek’s head was thrown back in laughter, Joshua riding on top of Derek’s shoulders with a wooden sword in his hand and a paper crown on top of his head.

Laura’s grip tightened on the frame, almost strong enough to crack the glass. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been staring at it until Jordan’s voice drew her back to herself.

“Laura?” Jordan’s voice was softer than it had been a moment before, “You OK?”

Laura cleared her throat, setting the stack of photos on the couch to her left, “Yeah, all good.”

Jordan didn’t look like he believed her. He looked from Laura, to the stacks of photos, and back again. He didn’t say anything though, and Laura was silently thankful for it. They made their way to the door of the apartment, Jordan opened the door and stood in the entryway.

“I’ll text you when I get off.”

Laura smiled and nodded, “Be safe.”

“I always am.” Jordan grinned.

Laura rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist, “Go attempt to be charming somewhere else.”

Jordan laughed, fixed the badge on the breast of his uniform, and turned to make his way down the hall to the elevator. When he was about halfway there, Laura called out to him.

“Hey, come back.”

Jordan stopped, turned slowly, and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Laura made an impatient face, and Jordan looked back at her with too fond of a smile. He walked back down to her door, leaning against the frame with one arm.

“Couldn’t let me leave without a kiss, huh?” Jordan gave her a cocky smile.

Laura licked her lips, leaned in until she was just a breath away from his lips, “No, I just wanted to see you walk away again. It should be illegal for your ass to look that good in those pants.”

Jordan sighed, his breath washing over Laura’s face, “You’re a menace to society.”

“Arrest me then.”

Laura leaned back, placed a single finger in the center of Jordan’s chest, and pushed him back out into the hall with just a tiny bit of supernatural strength. Jordan’s eyes widened the way they always did when Laura displayed strength he didn’t think she possessed, and Laura closed the door on him with a smiling face.

She listened as Jordan made his way back to the elevator, and only turned away from the door when she heard it ding and open its doors for him. She tipped her head back and let out a shaky breath before walking back over to the stack of pictures on the couch.

Finding the box of photos in their family’s storage unit in town two months ago had been an emotional day, and if Laura was being honest she still probably hadn’t recovered from it. She knew she had to put them up in the apartment though. As much as it hurt seeing her mom’s face on the wall directly opposite her door hurt, it would hurt even more knowing the picture existed and wasn’t hung up.

She popped open the frame on the picture with Joshua in it with one of her claws and pulled it out, sitting it gently on the side table before going to get her phone from the bedroom. She opened the browser and searched for the closest copy shop in Beacon Hills so she could make a copy of the photo of Joshua for Peter.

 

X

 

Peter rushed towards the apartment. He’d had a bit of a head start before the quake began, but he was too deep into the woods to make it out before the world started shifting. He didn’t care though, he kept running through the forest while the quake happened. It was harder than he’d imagined to keep his feet on the ground, and he stumbled forward and fell to his knees during a particularly violent jolt.

He was dimly aware of a stinging pain in his hand when he stood, but he didn’t pay any attention to it until he’d made it back to the street across from the apartment. The quake was still going by the time Peter’s feet hit the cement sidewalk, and he could hear the distant sounds of car alarms and a few terrified sobs.

There was only one sound Peter was tuning his ears for, and he sucked in a deep breath when he heard it. Eight floors up, behind the third window to the left, was the uneven thump of a heartbeat. There were no other sounds of distress, no sniffling tears or wracked sobs, just a telltale heart.

Peter was positive the quake was almost over as he approached the door of the apartment. It wasn’t until he reached out to open the door to the lobby that Peter saw his hand was bloody. He turned it over and blinked a few times when he saw a rather sharp stick embedded in his palm. He ripped it out in one move and dropped it to the ground, kicking it into the storm drain on the side of the street. He wiped the blood on the back of his dark jeans and headed straight for the stairs, opting not to use the elevator because the last thing he wanted was the be stuck in it.

He scaled the stairs four at a time, making it to the front door of the apartment in just a few seconds. The salty scent of tears hit him when he opened the door, and it only took Peter a second to locate Isaac inside the apartment.

Isaac was on the floor in the kitchen, sitting under the rickety kitchen table Peter had stolen just for fun in broad daylight from a yard sale just outside of town. The chairs were all pushed to the side, and Isaac sat under the dead center of the table with his knees pulled up to his chest. The room was dark, so Peter walked to the light switch without making any sudden movements.

The light flickered on, filling the kitchen with a drab florescent glow. Isaac looked up, and Peter could see tracks of tears running down his face. Peter hesitated a moment, frozen in place by Isaac’s watery eyes, and only moved when Isaac released the breath he’d been holding in since Peter walked into the apartment.

Isaac didn’t move from under the table, so Peter walked towards him and crouched just outside of arm’s reach. He waited for Isaac to speak, letting the silence between them stretch out. It was always easier to let Isaac start, because Peter wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good at talking, at feeling. He didn’t solve problems with words, he solved them with action. He solved them with hurting, with stopping things before they could become a bigger problem, with killing.

Peter had already killed Isaac’s biggest problem, but that didn’t mean that Isaac was magically healed. Peter had to let Isaac make the first move, because Peter never knew how.

“It was an earthquake, right?” Isaac asked.

Peter nodded, “Yes, it was.”

Isaac let out a ragged breath, and then quickly sucked in another. Peter waited, knowing that the earthquake was not Isaac’s problem, but not knowing how to voice it.

Isaac released the iron grip on his legs and let them stretch out so their feet were sticking out from under the table. It reminded him of The Wizard of Oz, of the Wicked Witch of the East, of all the times Peter told Mariska she was going to have a house dropped on her as revenge one day.

Peter just barely managed to keep his claws from coming out when he thought of her, a feat he’d somehow accomplished during the first week Isaac moved into the apartment with him.

“The bed was shaking,” Isaac said, “I mean, I woke up and it was shaking…and I thought…”

Isaac trailed off, closed his mouth, and Peter saw his eyes harden. Peter swallowed the lump in his throat, realizing Isaac was closing himself off.

“You thought it was him.” Peter said, hoping to a god he didn’t believe in that he was hitting the mark.

Isaac looked up at him, his eyes wide with shock. He probably hadn’t expected Peter to say it, because Peter himself hadn’t expected it. He felt like he owed Isaac this one though, owed him to at least try.

“Sometimes he would come in and kick my bed when I was asleep.” Isaac whispered, “The bed would shake. It wasn’t…it didn’t feel like it was him during the earthquake, but I still thought it was. You weren’t in your room when I realized what was happening, so I hid under the table because I saw it in a cartoon once.”

Peter bit his tongue at the thought. Isaac woke up terrified, and Peter was out galivanting in the woods under the moonlight like a fucking nymph.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” Peter said by way of an explanation, “I was running.”

Peter only slept a few hours on a good night, but a few days out from the full moon Peter was lucky if he got an hour. His skin had been burning earlier in the evening, scratching and clawing him from the inside out. He couldn’t lay in bed any longer, couldn’t listen to Isaac’s heartbeat down the hall and to the right, couldn’t be alone with the thoughts in his head. He’d gotten out of bed and ran across the street, hoping that a few hours of pushing his body to the limits would allow him at least a bit of restful sleep.

Clearly the universe had other plans, hence the earthquake.

“Running like,” Isaac shrugged, sweeping his hands over himself, “or running like…”

Peter huffed out a dry laugh as Isaac held up his hands in a terrible imitation of claws.

“The claws, most definitely.”

He could see the moment the tension left Isaac’s body. His shoulders relaxed, he stopped holding his index and middle finger together with a white knuckled grip, and his stuttering heartbeat calmed. Peter pushed himself up from the floor, leaning his weight on the side of the table while Isaac crawled out from under it.

Isaac rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, “Sorry for crying.”

Isaac apologized for everything, and every time he did it made Peter think more seriously about teaching Stiles a bit of necromancy so he could bring back Isaac’s father just to kill him again. Peter reached for the cabinet, pulling out two bowls and setting them on the counter. Cereal was about the only item of food left in the apartment, so he poured a bowl for himself and Isaac and sat it on the table.

Isaac ate the cereal like he ate everything else, with a hurried speed of someone who was used to having things ripped away from him. He was done with his bowl before Peter had even taken more than a couple spoonsful himself.

“Don’t apologize.” Peter told him, for what felt like the thousandth time, “Never apologize for something you don’t feel is wrong.”

Isaac looked at him the way he did when Peter said something like that, with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem without paper or a calculator. Isaac stood with him in the kitchen until he was done eating, the clinking of the metal spoon against the glass bowl the only sound filling the air.

Peter rinsed both the bowls, sat them in the sink, and turned towards the hallway. He was eager to wash off the blood and sweat from his run. He paused at the door to his room, watching Isaac as he walked down the hall and stopped in front of his own door. Isaac opened his door and stepped inside.

“Goodnight, Peter.” Isaac said over his shoulder.

Peter looked back at him, “Goodnight, Isaac.”

He waited until Isaac’s door closed, then he heard the sound of the lock clicking into place. Peter smiled to himself, the lock was the first thing he’d gone out and bought after Isaac showed up at his front door with a single duffle bag over his shoulder. The door to his room at his father’s house didn’t even have a knob on it, but Peter wanted him to feel like he had some degree of control. Isaac always locked the door, but Peter didn’t take it personally.

“Thank you.”

Peter almost missed the whisper over the closing of his own door. It was so quiet, barely an actual sound, that Peter wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard it at all. Isaac knew the basics of Peter’s enhanced werewolf senses, but it wouldn’t have been hard for him to forget on a night like this.

Peter took a scalding hot shower, one that would almost certainly have caused minor burns to a human, and crawled back into bed. He listened for Isaac’s heartbeat, slow and steady, and then closed his eyes. He let himself think of Joshua for one moment, tonight it was his smile, and then quickly ripped all the memories out of his head.

Only thinking about Joshua once a day was getting harder, especially with Isaac around. Isaac wasn’t Joshua, Peter knew that, but he couldn’t help comparing them sometimes. Isaac was no longer anyone’s son, and Peter wasn’t anyone’s father, but their demons seemed to compliment each other. Peter wanted to help Isaac, and maybe Isaac could help him along the way as well.

He wondered if Joshua would be proud of him.

 

X

 

Allison wiped the sweat away from her brow before she took another swing at the practice dummy. The sound of her fist hitting the padding echoed through the basement, and she grimaced as it stung her knuckles. She’d have to tape them up better next time, but she didn’t feel like stopping now. She danced backwards a few steps, bouncing back and forth on the soles of her feet before jumping in the air with a twist and round house kicking the pale head of the dummy.

It wobbled, just enough that it threatened to actually tip over, and that satisfied Allison enough to take a break for a few minutes. She walked over to the bench, uncapped her water bottle, and took a long chug. She wiped the excess water from her chin with the back of her hand, and leaned forward to grab her phone to check the time.

Allison let out a low hiss, it was a little after three in the morning. She realized that meant she’d been down in the basement for over an hour. She didn’t feel any more tired than she did an hour ago when she came downstairs to tire herself out by going a few rounds with the training dummy. She shook her head, the thick braid her hair was tied into knocking against the back wall.

She couldn’t keep doing this. She didn’t think she had the energy in her anymore. It was one thing in theory, but it was an entirely different thing in practice.

The first jolt came as soon as Allison stood from the bench. She’d just moved back towards the dummy when the floor under her feet shook. Her first thought was that the house was being attacked by something, which was a sad commentary on the state of her brain. It only took her a moment to realize what was actually happening.

It was an earthquake.

The shaking grew more violent, and the weapons along the wall began to shake along with everything else. Allison suddenly realized that a basement was probably the worst place you could be during an earthquake, especially one that had walls lined with guns and blades. Allison watched as a pistol wobbled off one of its hooks and swayed back and forth. It was a misfire waiting to happen.

Something in Allison’s brain told her not to take the stairs up to the ground level of the house though. The stairs were rickety at the best times, and unstable at the worst. There was a reinforced steel cage in the corner of the room, because _of course_ there was, so she made her way towards that.

The small dividing wall between the cage and the rest of the basement would be enough to protect her from any misfires, and the thick metal of the cage should protect her from anything falling from overhead. It was the safest place she could be, but she still felt dirty crawling inside of it.

She wondered how many werewolves had been locked inside of it, and then she wondered how many of them _deserved_ to be locked inside of it. She had a hunch that the numbers didn’t match.

The worst of the quake died out after less than a minute, but Allison stayed inside the cage in case there were any aftershocks. She only crawled out of it when she heard the door at the top of the stairs open, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps slowly descending.

Allison was out of the cage and around the corner just in time to see Gerard step foot onto the concrete floor.

“There you are.” Gerard said, “I was worried when you weren’t in your room.”

Gerard had a funny way of making worry seem like an accusation.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Allison said by way of explanation, “That was an earthquake, right?”

Gerard nodded, short and tight, “Lucky your father isn’t here, he cried like a baby during the last earthquake he was in.”

“Have you heard when they’ll be back?” Allison asked, “I called him today but our signal got cut out after a few minutes.”

“Victoria said they’ll be back next week.”

“You talked to mom?”

“She called me earlier.” Gerard said.

Gerard’s eyes flickered down to Allison’s hands. She looked at them too, already starting to notice the bruises forming.

“You wrapped them wrong.” Gerard pointed out, sighing, “Christopher should have taught you better than that.”

“Dad didn’t teach me how to wrap them.” Allison said, causing Gerard to pause mid-way up the stairs.

“Oh?” Gerard looked over his shoulder.

Maybe it was sleep deprivation, or maybe Allison had just had enough of her grandfather walking around the house like he owned the place, but she looked him dead in the eyes when she spoke, “Kate did.”

Gerard’s lips formed a thin line the same way they always did when someone said something negative about Kate. That was the only sign that what Allison said had gotten to him, he simply shrugged his shoulder and made his way back up to the door.

“Then I guess it’s good she died before she could teach you anymore bad habits.”

The door closed, and Allison stared at it in shock.

She shook it off, gathering up her things and giving Gerard enough time to disappear into the guest bedroom before she walked back upstairs. She made her way to her room, tossing her phone on the bed, and got into the shower.

The hot water did a lot to sooth her aching muscles, and it also seemed to lull her to sleep a bit. She cut the water, dried off, and walked back into her room. She noticed her phone blinking after she pulled on her pajamas, and sighed when she read it was a text from Scott.

Allison unlocked her phone and made it to the thread of texts with Scott. She looked at weeks of unanswered text messages, Scott’s attempts at reaching out all ignored by Allison. It hurt to look at them, to see that Scott had tried to talk to her almost every day and that she didn’t answer.

 

**From Scott: Hear there was a quake in BH, hope you’re OK.**

She knew Scott was out of town, and she only had to think about how he’d heard of the quake so quickly. He was part of a pack, of course they talked to each other during something like this. She wondered how everyone else was, if Stiles, Lydia, and Erica were OK.

She couldn’t text them to find out though.

She looked down at Scott’s words, reading them over and over again. It almost seemed too cruel not to reply. Scott wasn’t in town, he didn’t have any way of knowing for sure that Allison wasn’t crushed under a pile of rubble.

She couldn’t, she _shouldn’t,_ reply.

But she did.

She sent him a smiley face. It wasn’t much, but she hoped it conveyed everything she was feeling. She also hoped Scott wouldn’t reply to it. She deleted the entire thread of text messages, the evidence of Scott’s attempts to contact her for the last three months, and turned off her phone.

Sleep came easy after that, but it wasn’t restful.

 

X

 

Erica thought she was having a seizure at first. It was unpleasant, and frankly it kind of pissed her off. She wasn’t supposed to have seizures anymore, being a werewolf was supposed to take care of that. It had been almost two blissful months without them, and for them to come back and rip her out of her sleep like this hurt.

Except.

Erica realized it wasn’t a seizure when pictures started falling off the walls. It wasn’t Erica herself shaking, it was everything around her. It was just as unpleasant, but at least it didn’t mean there was anything wrong with her. Erica had shit luck, and she knew that if anyone could spontaneously unbecome a werewolf it would have been her.

She got out of bed quickly, dashing down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. She didn’t see them at first, but she followed their scent into the bathroom. They were inside the shower, her dad covering her mom protectively with his arms.

“Erica!” Her dad gasped when she opened the door.

“You’re OK.” Erica breathed a sigh of relief.

“You should be somewhere safe!” Her mom protested.

“That’s why I’m here,” Erica said over the rumbling, “move over.”

Erica wedged herself into the small stall, wrapping her arms around both her parents as best as she could. She turned them until they were both facing the wall and her back was left exposed to the glass door of the shower. It wasn’t the safest hiding place her parents could have picked, but they probably panicked.

“Erica…we should be protecting yo-”

She cut her dad off, “Dad, if something happens it will hurt me a lot less than it will either of you.”

Neither of them looked happy about it, but the both conceded because it was just a basic fact.

“You’re not invincible.” Her mom said softly.

Erica hugged her tighter, “I know, but I’m a hell of a lot more durable than either of you. Please, just let me protect you.”

The shaking stopped soon after, but they all hung out in the shower for a bit longer in case of an aftershock. When they were sure it was relatively safe, Erica unwound her arms from her parents and stepped backwards out of the shower. They both pulled her into separate hugs, and she hugged them back. She was mindful of her strength, she didn’t want a repeat of the time a few weeks ago when her dad had to go to the chiropractor after a simple hug.

Laura had been mad at her for not knowing her strength, and Stiles just thought it was hilarious.

When she made it back to her room, her phone was lit up with texts from Laura and Stiles. Just as she replied to both of them, her phone rang. Erica tried, and failed miserably, to stop a smile from creeping onto her face.

“Boyd, do you realize it’s three in the morning.” Erica answered in lieu of hello.

“You do realize we just had an earthquake, right?” Boyd’s voice was flat as usual, but there was a bit of hidden humor in it.

“I could have slept through it.” Erica pointed out.

“If you slept though an earthquake but woke up from a phone call then I think you have bigger problems.”

Erica could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

Erica laughed, “Thank you for checking on me. I’ve still got all my fingers and toes.”

“That’s good,” Boyd said, “I’m glad.”

“You OK?” Erica asked, “Your family?”

“Everyone’s fine, just a little shaken up.”

“I think everyone’s a little shaken up.” Erica grinned.

“Hilarious.” Boyd said dryly, “Goodnight.”

Erica smiled again, “Goodnight.”

Boyd hung up first, which wasn’t unusual. They’d been dancing around each other for the last four months, ever since the day Erica had run into him at school. She’d had to go MIA when summer started to get acclimated to the bite, and she had figured Boyd would disappear during that time. At the very least, she assumed he would have been pissed after getting nothing more than a text telling him that she would be out of town and unreachable for a few weeks. She was surprised when she found out he was still around, still interested in talking to her.

She’d told Boyd the same lie she planned on telling anyone else if they asked, she’d been out of town for an experimental treatment to control her epilepsy.

They continued on like nothing had happened after that, and Boyd almost didn’t recognize her after her first trip to the mall where she bought clothes that made her feel special. She wasn’t the same Erica that Boyd had met in the hall, but Boyd seemed to like the new Erica just the same.

He also didn’t stare down her shirt, which every other random man for miles seemed to do whenever she wore pieces from her new wardrobe.

She crawled back into bed, pulling the soft blankets up to her neck. Erica fell asleep that night with a smile on her face, so far beyond content in her life that she couldn’t do anything but smile about it.

 

X

 

Lydia sat in the middle of her bed as the world shook around her. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and she absently watched the lamp on her desk wobble dangerously close to the edge as the house shook. She could hear her parents out in the hallway, but they seemed further away than they were. Lydia hadn’t moved or tried to make her way to some cover when the quake struck, she simply sat up in bed and pushed the comforter to the floor.

She knew, unnaturally, that she would be safe. Lydia knew without a shadow of a doubt that even if the house fell down around her, even if everyone in the neighborhood was crushed under the weight of their half-million-dollar homes, she would emerge unscathed.

The shaking stopped as quickly as it began, and the door to Lydia’s room swung open to reveal a red-faced parent.

“Lydia!” Her mom all but shrieked, “You didn’t try to get to cover?”

Lydia calmly blinked at her, “If you’re in bed when an earthquake starts you’re supposed to stay there. You risk greater injury trying to frantically find something to hide under.”

Her mom looked like she didn’t know if she should laugh or cry, “You’re OK?”

“Just peachy.” Lydia nodded, “The house?”

“Your dad is checking, but there doesn’t seem to be any damage.”

Lydia got out of bed, stretching her arms over her head, “Good. I’m going to take a shower.”

Her mom was looking at her like she was an alien, which wasn’t a new look. There had been plenty of those looks over the last few months. She just nodded, backed out into the hallway, and gently shut the door.

Lydia’s phone chimed on the nightstand, she unhooked it and saw she had two texts. One was from Stiles, asking if she was alive, and the other from Laura, which asked the same but in less crude terms. She replied yes to both of them and threw the phone back onto her bed.

She ran a hand through her hair, momentarily surprise when her fingers freed themselves quicker than usual. She’d forgotten about the haircut, about how she waltzed into her hairdresser two days prior and demanded that they cut six inches off her hair. She’d made Lydia sign a consent form stating that she was of sound mind before she even looked at a pair of scissors. Lydia walked over to the mirror, shaking her hair out and watching as it just ghosted over the top of her bare shoulders.

Lydia was tired of picking sticks and leaves out of her hair after spending hours in the woods. She wasn’t a werewolf, she didn’t particularly like the wild look that Laura and Erica got sometimes after they tumbled around on the ground. Plus, she fucking hated cleaning the dirt out of her shower. The shorter hair was a compromise with herself, she wasn’t going to stop going into the woods, but she could at least make it easier for her exhausted body when she got home.

A shadow in the corner of her room drew her attention, and Lydia turned away from the mirror to face it. She saw just enough of her reflection as she moved to know that her eyes had changed, that they were now glowing bright green. She swallowed, eyeing the offending corner. There was nothing there, no sign of disturbance except for a stray ball that Prada had dropped off in her room the night before.

Another shadow, this time it moved right in front of her vision. It flickered in and out, like an old TV, as it moved over towards the large windows of her room. She followed it, climbing over her bed in order to get to the window faster. There was no shadow by the time she got there, but it felt like the window was calling to her. She edged towards the bench under the window that was built into the wall, her knees resting on the soft padding as she reached up to grab the latch to unlock the window.

The wind outside swelled as Lydia opened the window, blowing in a flurry strong enough to make Lydia’s eyes water. The wind swept into the room, tipping over the cup filled with pens and pencils on her desk. They scattered, rolling off in every imaginable direction, but Lydia didn’t care.

She leaned her head out of the window, looking to either side to see if there was something she was missing. The wind stopped, and the howling that came along with it quieted, leaving only the sound of emergency sirens to fill the still air. She lingered, wondering if there was something she was missing.

That’s when she heard it.

Just as she was about to pull her head back inside, Lydia heard the sound of wings above her. She turned her head sideways, enough for it to hurt, but there wasn’t anything in the sky. The flapping continued though, it sounded like a flock of thousands of birds coming towards her. She could almost feel the draft from winds overhead, but Lydia was positive she was alone.

Lydia slammed the window shut, locking it and drawing the curtains closed. She hated this, hated the feeling of emptiness in the center of her chest. The sense of dread burned, hot an angry. She’d felt it once before, the first day that Kate Argent showed up to teach their Chemistry class.

Lydia looked across the room at her reflection. Her eyes were still green, but they returned to normal after she blinked. The strand of gray hair was also back, and it hadn’t been there a minute ago.

“Fuck.” Lydia whispered.

 

X

 

Derek yawned as he pushed the cart of books down a lonely stack of shelves. He was in the far back of the library, the _new_ library where no one had been murdered. Yet. He’d run a handful of teenagers out after finding them making out behind Old English texts. He rather enjoyed seeing the range of emotions their faces went through when Derek pointed to his name tag in a signal that he worked there and he wasn’t just a random guy glaring angrily at them for trying to get off under copies of The Seafarer. The back corner was mercifully empty today, which was good because Derek wasn’t entirely sure that he had the patience to deal with someone nicely. Between being woken in the early morning by the impending earthquake, and the full moon only being a few days away, Derek’s skin was on edge.

Aside from finding teenagers fondling each other, Derek actually loved his job. He loved coming in and being surrounded by books, knowing he was in a place that promised relative quiet for six hours a few days out of the week. Some people found it mind numbing, but Derek reveled in the simple tasks he accomplished every day.

Laura had looked at him like he’d grown a second head when he told her that he wanted to get a job. She had always done better with free time than he did, and Laura was content to spend her days relaxing at home, in town, or out on patrols in the preserve. Derek wasn’t good at relaxing either, unless he was with Stiles. He liked having something to do.

Surprisingly, the person most supportive of Derek’s idea had been the Sheriff. He’d patted Derek on the shoulder with a gentle hand, squeezed it in a way that could only be described as fatherly, and told him he was a good kid. Derek liked to think the Sheriff was just glad he wasn’t spending every waking moment with Stiles, it made more sense than any of the other alternatives.

Stiles just rambled for half an hour about how awesome it was to have a hot boyfriend who was a werewolf _and_ a librarian.

The library changed locations after the Rougarou attack. It closed down until enough money could be raised to fund a full move. A fundraiser was planned, but an anonymous donor stepped in and fronted all the money themselves. The donor may or may not have had the last name Hale. The books, computers, and all other pieces of furniture in the library that hadn’t been touched by blood were shipped to a new building across town. The library was no longer across the street from the high school, it was now housed in a three-story corner building on the edge of main street.

That meant it was also directly across the street from the Sheriff’s station.

Derek and the Sheriff saw each other constantly now as they were coming and going from their respective buildings, and sometimes they even had lunch. Stiles thought it was weird, but Derek could tell he was lying and that he secretly enjoyed it. The jury was still out on if Stiles was happy because Derek could stop his dad from eating unhealthy food, or if Stiles was just happy that he and his dad were spending time together. Either way, Derek didn’t hate it.

Derek lifted several volumes of an encyclopedia and slid them back into their proper spots on the shelf. He made his way through the stacks of books on his cart relatively quickly, glancing down at his watch to check the time. It was close to his lunch hour, and Derek wondered for a moment if Stiles really was going to show up. Derek wouldn’t be upset if he did, it had been a rough morning and Derek knew he’d woken Stiles from a nightmare just before the earthquake.

They hadn’t talked about the nightmare, Derek usually let Stiles come to him when he was ready to talk. Stiles had been making a big effort to talk about them with Derek, to let Derek try and help him in any way he could, and Derek appreciated that. He appreciated feeling useful, even if it was just holding Stiles close while he softly told Derek what he’d dreamed about a few days earlier. He was still drinking Peter’s foul smelling tea, but Derek thought that the therapist that Stiles had started to see was helping just as much.

The smell of burgers drifted up to Derek’s nose, and he barely resisted breaking out into a full-on grin. He could smell Stiles’ order perfectly, a double bacon cheeseburger, extra mustard, no mayo, and two and a half pickles. It worried Derek that he’d seen Stiles eat the same burger so many times he could identify it by its smell, but he shrugged it off.

“You come to make good on that threat to ravish me on top of the books?” Derek asked, amusement in his voice.

A throat cleared from the other side of the bookshelf, a throat that absolutely did not belong to Stiles. Derek felt his blood go cold, and he was sure his face was several shades too pale for a werewolf. The person on the other side of the shelf grabbed a book at Derek’s eye level and pulled it out, squinting at him from the other side.

“I certainly hope not,” the Sheriff said, “at least not while I’m around.”

Derek looked up at the thick bound copy of Beowulf above his head and silently wished it would fall from its perch and crush him. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would probably knock him out for a few merciful minutes.

“Seriously, dude?” Stiles laughed, leaning a long arm against the far end of the row, “You couldn’t smell him? Are your senses off? Do we need to take you to Deaton for a checkup?”

Derek gave Stiles a growl that lacked any and all heat, “All I can smell is your stupid burger.”

The Sheriff barked out a laugh, “You and me both. Stupid salad.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, taking a few steps forward and kissing Derek quickly before his dad walked around the corner. The Sheriff was still in his uniform, and he looked tired, frayed around the edges. He probably hadn’t even been home since the evening before.

He still reached out and clapped Derek on the back, and Derek settled at the touch. He couldn’t be in too much trouble if the Sheriff wasn’t twitching towards his gun.

“Sorry to…intrude.” The Sheriff said, “I was on my way home and saw Stiles coming in with a bag of greasy food.”

“For _us_.” Stiles pointed between himself and Derek.

The Sheriff sighed, long suffering, “I’m not going to steal your burger, kid.”

They both followed Derek up to the front, waiting as he ducked into the back office to clock out for his lunch break. They made their way outside, walking down the sidewalk to the small park, and took their seats at one of the picnic tables under the shade of a tall oak tree. Stiles sat next to his dad, Derek directly across from him with his ankle rested against Stiles’ calf.

“How was today?” Derek directed his question to the Sheriff.

The Sheriff wobbled his hand back and forth, as if to say so-so, “It could have been worse. We haven’t gotten any reports of major damage, just an incident at the electric company and a few downed powerlines. A few neighborhoods on the east side don’t have power, but it shouldn’t be out for much longer. We got lucky.”

“You’re off tonight, right?” Stiles asked.

The Sheriff nodded, “For the next two days, assuming no more dead bodies show up in the preserve.”

Derek ducked his head, but Stiles let out an indignant huff.

“Hey, we’re trying! It’s not as easy as it sounds to find giant, man eating, moose sized monsters out in the preserve!”

The Sheriff cringed, looking over his shoulder at the toddlers wobbling on the swings, “Jesus, Stiles.”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, “What Stiles meant to say was that Erica and Laura are pretty sure they caught the scent of the Wendigos when they were on a run last night, we should be able to track them once the sun goes down.”

Stiles nodded, “And if all goes well, the moose will be minced.”

“Stop calling them moose,” Derek rolled his eyes, “they’re not moose.”

“They look like moose, and moose is a lot more fun to say than Wendigo.”

Derek sighed in a way that told Stiles he’d won that round.

The Sheriff looked like he still couldn’t believe this was his life, Derek really felt for the man, “OK…well…make sure to keep me in the loop. If a moose is being minced, I want to know about it. And I want to know that everyone is OK afterwards.”

“Yes sir.” Derek said, nodding.

The Sheriff yawned, stretching his arms over his head, “Alright, I think I’m all tapped out. Derek, keep Stiles safe tonight. Stiles, keep Derek safe too.”

“You got it.” Stiles gave his dad a thumbs up.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to retire to the sanctity of my own home where I don’t have to hear Parrish waxing poetic about your sister.” The Sheriff rolled his eyes, “It’s like everyone around me is obsessed with you Hales.”

Derek promptly choked on the sip of soda he’d just taken.

“It’s the eyebrows,” Stiles said before taking another bite of his burger, “the eyebrows get everyone.”

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes, sweeping them over Derek’s face like he was studying him. His face softened, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth.

“It was never about the eyebrows.”

The Sheriff turned on his heels, shoving his hands into his pocket as he walked away. Derek tracked him down the block, only looking away when he was safely inside his cruiser. Derek looked back at Stiles to find him levitating his burger wrapper towards the trash can. Derek scooped up a small rock and threw it at the ball of foil, knocking it out of the air and summoning a disgruntled grunt out of Stiles.

“Really?” Stiles glared at him.

Derek folded both hands and rested his chin on them as he looked across the table at Stiles, “I thought everyone agreed to no magic in public.”

“It was just some trash.” Stiles tried defending himself, “It’s not like I was levitating myself in the middle of a grocery store.”

Derek arched an eyebrow at him.

Stiles sighed, “That was one time and I barely made it an inch off the ground before I lost my concentration and fell.”

Derek laughed, unable and unwilling to stop the rush of warmth that filled his chest when he looked at Stiles. He looked at Stiles, watched him as he talked and failed in his attempt at throwing his trash into the garbage like a normal person, and couldn’t quite believe just how in love with him he was.

He really, really, really, loved the guy sitting across from him, even if he hadn’t told him yet.

“Finish your food,” Derek said, shoving a french fry in his mouth, “I’ve got to be back to work in ten minutes and we’ve got a long night ahead of us once I get off.”

“You bet your sweet ass we do.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows.

Derek waited for the warm feeling in his chest to die a painful, withering death at the hands of that comment.

Nope.

Still in love.

 


	2. It's Handled

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

It’s Handled

 

 

The Wendigos first showed up a week ago.

It had been a quiet summer up until their arrival. Most of the beginning of summer was spent getting Erica acclimated to the bite and everything that came along with it. No one wanted a repeat of the Scott situation, and Stiles was pretty sure Erica wouldn’t have taken well to being chained up in a veterinarian’s basement.

Other than that, Beacon Hills had been free of any supernatural hijinks for a solid month and a half, and Stiles was looking forward to spending the last three weeks of summer blissfully relaxing before school began again.

The timetable obviously didn’t account for two Wendigos showing up to take a shit on the whole party.  

With the arrival of the Wendigos, it felt like the other shoe had finally dropped. Beacon Hills was party central for craziness again, and two giant, rotting, moose shape monsters had decided to RSVP. They’d had a good run, but they all knew it would have to end eventually.

It started with a body in the woods, as these things normally do.  A hiker found a girl in the early hours of the morning a week ago, he’d called 911 to report her body, which was ripped in half and almost picked clean down to the bones. While he was on the phone with the 911 operator, he was attacked too. His dad had taken one look at the crime scene, saw hoof marks larger than his hand, and called Laura.

It didn’t take them long to track the monster, they’d gotten into a brawl with one only an hour after beginning the search. None of them expected a second one, an even bigger moose-sized monster.

They’d gotten their asses resolutely kicked.

One more person died before they learned what they were after. Stiles had found a small bestiary in a stack of books Peter had given him a few weeks prior, and the first page he opened it to saw him looking at the face of a Wendigo.

Luckily, nothing special had to be done to kill a Wendigo. You just had to…kill it. Which was easier said than done, because it was still a giant moose monster with sharp, horn-like antlers, and hoofs roughly the size of Stiles’ head.

Stiles kept comparing them to moose, because they were the only thing that looked remotely similar to the monster standing directly across from it. It was on four legs, its elongated snout dripping with blood and spit. It kicked its foot, the large hoof splintering the log it was standing on. Its body looked frail, but Stiles knew better than to underestimate it. The only weak spot any of them could find was the exposed ribcage on its chest, but it wasn’t easy to reach it.

Again, Stiles wished for an influx of moose in the preserve. Moose were nice, gentle giants. A moose wouldn’t currently have Derek impaled on one of its antlers. But there Derek was, a Wendigo antler in his stomach as Stiles tried to figure out the best way to get him out of the situation.

The Wendigo furiously shook its head as Derek slashed into its face. Derek’s white shirt was growing darker with blood by the second, but it looked like his current position as hood ornament to a pissed off Wendigo was actually helping them in the fight. The Wendigo was so distracted by Derek that it didn’t see Erica coming in from the side, her blonde hair billowing behind her as she ran. She slammed her shoulder into the exposed ribs of the Wendigo, and Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to hear how the brittle bone snapped at the impact.

The Wendigo screamed, tossing its head to the side and throwing Derek from its antlers. Stiles lifted his hand, unfurling his magic from the center of his chest to catch Derek before he hit the ground, but Scott beat him to it. Scott jumped through the air, pushing himself off the tree closest to Derek, and caught Derek just before he hit the ground. It wasn’t graceful, and the size difference between them was evident as they rolled across the ground.

“I had him!” Stiles yelled.

Scott stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands and wincing at Derek’s blood on the front of his shirt, “Sorry!”

Erica let out a scream, and Stiles turned just in time to see her take a hoofed foot to the face. She flew through the air, and this time Stiles used his magic to catch her before she hit the ground. He was still getting the hang of it, so she hung there suspended in midair for a moment, just long enough to make her even more pissed off before the magic dissipated and she dropped to the ground and into a crouch.

The Wendigo bent down and placed all four of its limbs on the ground, letting out a bellowing yell that sounded uncomfortably similar to an air horn. It was the first time the Wendigo had made a sound other than a growl or a huff, and Stiles didn’t know what he expected a Wendigo to sound like, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

It loped forward, disappearing into the darkness of the surrounding woods before Erica could shove a clawed hand into its throat. He could still hear the sound of its hoofs on the ground, could still see its gangly silhouette in the distance as it circled them.

The woods were dark, and even though they were a few days out from the full moon, the moon still didn’t provide enough light for Stiles to comfortably see everything around him. He wasn’t blessed with the gift of werewolf night vision, but he did have magic.

Stiles pressed his hands together into a prayer position and closed his eyes. He tried to block out the other sound around him as he felt the growing warmth between his palms. This was one of the easiest tricks he’d learned so far, but it still had the potential to backfire. When the heat just started to become painful, Stiles separated his hands and opened his eyes to see a small glowing ball floating in the space between his hands. The ball was composed of smaller orbs, all swirling together like a controlled cluster of fireflies. Stiles tossed his hands upward like he was throwing confetti and the orb followed. It lifted itself into the air until it reached the height of the trees and then it burst, showering the woods with the small glowing orbs. Some of the lights stayed near Stiles, but the others drifted off through the forest to illuminate dark patches.

The woods were bright now, like the trees had been strung with Christmas lights. It gave him just enough light to see Derek leaning against the tree, lightly pressing a hand to his injured stomach. Stiles ran over to him, grateful for the light allowing him to see the knotted roots in his path that would totally have tripped him.

“You OK?” Stiles asked, reaching out to touch Derek’s hand.

“Yeah,” Derek nodded, “I’m fine.”

Derek pulled his hand back and wiped away the blood, revealing a faint pink line that was already fading to nothingness.

Stiles let out a breath of relief, “Oh good, that really didn’t look fun.”

“Yeah, I don’t recommend it.” Derek deadpanned.

Derek’s head snapped to the side and he dove forward, pulling Stiles out of the way just as the Wendigo came rushing towards them. They rolled across the ground, and Derek’s hand cradled the back of Stiles’ head so he didn’t end up with a concussion from the rock he’d rolled their bodies into. Derek was up and diving back into the fight before Stiles stood. It took Stiles an extra second to reorient himself before he started to look for ways to help.

The Wendigo stood on its hind legs and towered over the wolves. It blew out another huff of air, the spit and blood from its mouth spattering out into the night air. Stiles mentally added a moose standing on its hind legs to the list of things he never knew he didn’t want to see.

Scott had to duck and roll to dodge a swipe from one of the arms, while Erica took another hoof to the face. She stayed on the ground this time, her hand covered in blood from a nose that was obviously broken.

It dropped back down to four legs, charging at Derek with razor sharp antlers. Derek let out a low growl of pain as one of the antlers grazed his arm, but he missed the brunt of the attack. It was still surprisingly fast for its size, and it skidded to a stop before turning and making another rush at Derek. Derek jumped right before the Wendigo gored him, and he was able to land on top of it. He dug his claws into the Wendigo’s back, holding on tight as the Wendigo screamed and tried to buck him off.

The Wendigo bounded around, slamming into trees to try and shake Derek off. Derek’s claw dug deeper into its back, so deep that Stiles wondered if he was holding on to one of its vertebrae. Derek couldn’t be thrown from it though, no matter how the Wendigo writhed, Derek just tightened his grip on the creature.

Stiles made a mental side note to try to convince Derek to take a trip to the country western bar in the next city over, if only to fulfill his newly minted fantasy of seeing Derek ride the mechanical bull. He could probably also cross of the not so newly minted fantasy of seeing Derek in a cowboy hat with that trip too.

“Erica! Scott!” Stiles yelled, drawing their attention, “The ribs!”

The ribs were the Wendigo’s weakness. For some reason they grew out of its skin, exposed and opened for attacks. Derek was distracting it enough that they might be able to slip in for an attack on them, at least do enough damage to slow it down so Derek could break its neck.

The Wendigo jumped into the air before Scott or Erica could get close enough, and Stiles realized what was happening after it was too late to say anything. The Wendigo twisted in the air so its back was to the ground. If Derek didn’t move he’d be crushed by the entirety of the Wendigos body weight once they hit the ground.

“Derek!” Stiles screamed, thrusting a hand forward and sending out the most controlled burst of magic he could.

It hit Derek in the center of his chest, and his eyes went comically wide as he was blown off the Wendigo’s back and onto the ground. Scott and Erica jumped towards it as it landed on its back, Scott finally landing a blow to its ribs. Stiles rushed around them towards Derek, who was slowly pushing himself up from the ground.

“Sorry.” Stiles said as sincerely and quickly as he possibly could, “I didn’t want you to get crushed.”

Derek shook his head, “It’s fine. Thank you.”

Stiles nodded, looking over his shoulder at the mess of a fight between two baby werewolves and a wendigo.

“Can you do anything to stop it?” Derek asked.

Stiles didn’t know for sure. He had an idea, but he was still getting the hang of everything and he didn’t trust this particular plan given how unpredictable the movements of the Wendigo were. It involved fire, and Stiles really didn’t want to get in trouble for burning down the preserve. Still, they were getting their asses kicked and Stiles owed it to everyone to at least try.

He thought of ways to scale down his initial idea, and he finally settled on one he thought he could control.

“Keep Scott and Erica away from it, I have an idea.”

Derek nodded and darted off to grab Scott and Erica.

Stiles searched the ground for a stone that was roughly the size of a baseball. It took him a few seconds, but he found one that would probably work for what he was going to try and do.

Probably.

He tossed the stone in his hand a few times, testing the weight and trying to figure out how much force he’d need to use to throw it. He took a deep breath once he was satisfied, closed his eyes, and pictured the stone covered in fire.

Most of Mariska’s books said the same thing: magic was mainly powered by belief. Sure, you needed to have some latent magical ability for the magic to function properly, but even the most powerful witch couldn’t make a spell work if they didn’t believe in it. Right now, Stiles believed that the stone in his hand was about to catch fire.

He believed it would work _, it had to work._

“Hey Bullwinkle!” Stiles opened his eyes and yelled at the Wendigo.

The Wendigo stopped its pursuit of the wolves and whipped its head towards Stiles. Stiles felt a growing sense of dread as its black eyes focused on him, breathing hard through its nose. It made a low, wuffing sound, and then let out the air horn scream again.

Stiles drew his hand back, his eyes closed as he pictured a burning ball of fire. He wound up the throw, letting the stone loose just as the Wendigo charged towards him. Stiles held his hand closed, a balled fist pointing directly at the Wendigo as it advanced on him. The stone was still moving through the air, perfectly arcing towards the sticky, gross fur of the Wendigo’s face. It was almost there, just a few more inches and it would hit the mark.

Stiles opened his fist, turning a flat palm up to face the Wendigo. Stiles felt the moment the magic ignited, it lanced though him like a pleasurable shock. He could feel the magic uncoiling itself in his body, racing through pathways of nerves in a haste to activate. The power was breathtaking, almost intoxicating.

The stone caught fire. It blazed with blue flames burning hot as it bridged the few inches to the face of the Wendigo. Stiles saw the Wendigo’s eyes widen, saw it try to correct its course, but there was no use. The Wendigo was too close to escape the flame, and the stone hit it square in the center of its head.

The Wendigo let out a pained scream as the matted fur on its face caught fire as if it had been soaked in gasoline. It screamed as it ran around in circles, bashing its face into trees in its haste to stamp out the flame. It jumped, bucked, kicked at anything it could to try to stop the fire. It dropped to the ground, jamming its face in the dirt to try and smother the flames that were slowly engulfing its body.

Sound came from Stiles’ left, and for a terrifying moment he was sure that the other Wendigo had found them. But what flew out of the trees was too fast to be the second Wendigo, and Stiles saw the telltale sign of red eyes and leather before a thundering roar filled the forest.

Laura launched herself into the fight, her hair billowing behind her as she dove for the Wendigo’s ribs. She spun to the side just as the Wendigo tried to slam into her with its flaming face, and Stiles saw the way her claws gleamed under the magical floating lights that still adorned the trees. Laura wasn’t in her full alpha shift, she was still upright and mostly human, but she could still do plenty of damage.

She picked up a tree branch, swinging it into the side of the Wendigo’s head. It broke on impact, but the force was enough to leave the Wendigo standing there, dazed and on fire.

“Now!” Laura yelled, her voice half a growl, “Like we practiced!”

Lydia made her way out of the trees and ran to Laura, stopping just short of the staggering Wendigo. She was dressed in all black, her hair the only shock of color against the darkness and her pale skin. She took a deep breath, leaned forward just a little bit, focused her eyes on the Wendigo like she was concentrating on aiming directly at it, and screamed.

The force of Lydia’s scream hit the Wendigo like a truck, slamming into the side of its exposed ribs. The snap of bones could be heard clearly, and Stiles winced when the bone in his leg throbbed in sympathy. The other wolves in the forest turned their head away from the sound, they’d all been working on getting used to it but there were still times when Lydia’s scream scrambled their brains too. The Wendigo toppled to the side after the impact, slamming into the cluster of trees next to it and snapping the ribs on that side too.

Laura rushed forward, sliding across the forest floor on her knees. Most of the fire had gone out, so Laura wrapped her arms around the Wendigo’s neck and twisted. It was a sharp, jerky movement that made the Wendigo’s body arch once before falling completely slack.

Laura released her hold on its body, pulling herself up from the ground with Derek’s offered hand. She leaned against him, took one look at the Wendigo, and nodded.

Erica stopped next to Stiles, “Damn, I wanted to be the one to do that. She knew that too.”

Stiles laughed, bobbing his head, “Wendigo-oh no she didn’t.”

Erica gave him an entirely unimpressed look as she picked a leaf out of her hair and walked away, “I don’t know you.”

“Come on!” Stiles flailed his arms out to the side, “That was funny!”

Stiles had _absolutely_ not been waiting to make that joke all week.

Derek let out a snort of laughter and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist from behind, pulling him closer. Stiles leaned back into Derek’s warmth, ignoring the unpleasant feeling of cold blood bleeding into his moderately clean shirt.  The tacky feeling of blood couldn’t compete with the tingle of Derek’s hand settled low on his stomach.

“The second one got away.” Laura said.

“Laura had it, but something scared it bad enough to make it run in the middle of a fight.” Lydia undid the clip in her hair and shook her head as her hair fell down to her shoulders.

“What’s bad enough to scare a Wendigo from a fight with an Alpha werewolf?” Scott asked, edging his way around the dead Wendigo like he was afraid it would spring back to life at any second.

“I didn’t sense anything else out there with us.” Laura said, “But I was more focused on the fight.”

Almost comically, everyone turned their heads to Lydia at once.

Lydia looked at them all with an arched eyebrow, “Yes?”

Erica was the first to say something, “Do you think it had anything to do with what you felt after the earthquake? The last time you got that feeling it ended up being something that wanted to kill us all.”

One of Stiles’ magical lights floated down from the trees. It drifted to Lydia’s shoulder, settling down onto her until she reached up and grabbed it, holding it between her thumb and index finger. She rolled it around between her fingers, letting the small orb settle itself in the palm of her hand. Stiles felt a pull of magic in his chest when she closed her hand around the light, only for it to be empty when she opened it a second later.

“I don’t know. I don’t _feel_ anything,” Lydia blew out a frustrated breath, “but I’m pretty sure that just means that someone isn’t in danger of dying horrifically in the next ten minutes.”

“We should still be able to track it down, it’s not moving as fast as it could be.” Laura said, “I want this Wendigo thing to be over before the full moon.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. Stiles was sure his dad would appreciate if this whole ordeal was wrapped up tonight. All the wolves tipped their noses upwards to try and catch a scent, and Stiles pulled out a little trick of his own.

Magic and nature, Deaton had once said, were fundamentally connected. If nature was connected to magic, and magic was connected to belief, then if Stiles truly believed he could influence nature, he could. He wasn’t Storm or anything, but he had been able to make a few puffs of wind appear out of nowhere. Of course, most of the time these were to annoy someone by blowing their hair out of place, but it could have more practical applications.

Stiles closed his eyes, blocking out the sounds of werewolves sniffing around him as he held a single finger up in the air. He tried to feel what was around him, tried to ground himself and truly experience all the earth was offering him in the moment, trying to be as respectful as possible as he asked for help. He felt the moment their goals aligned, the earth had heard him asking for permission and she’d granted it. He crooked his finger once, as if to tell the wind to come, and a sharp gust blew through the forest.

The branches of the trees rattled, leaves scattered at their feet, and Erica’s hair flew loosely behind her head. Laura’s eyes snapped open, her head quickly jerking to the side. The rest of the wolves copied her, their eyes going wide when they picked up whatever scent they were searching for.

“We’ve got it.” Laura smiled, “Good job, Stiles.”

Stiles preened at the compliment. Laura rolled her eyes, but it didn’t stop her from reaching over and threading her fingers through his hair. Derek, not to be one-upped, pulled Stiles in close and kissed the nape of his neck.

“You’re a mess.” Laura huffed out a laugh.

“Whatever.” Derek said, pulling Stiles in closer to his side.

Stiles secretly loved when Laura and Derek got territorial over him, not that he’d ever tell either of them. It was the best self confidence booster in the world.

“Are you two going to go back and forth fondling Stilinski, or are we going to catch a Wendigo?” Erica laughed at them, crossing her arms over her chest.

Stiles might have laughed, just a little bit, as Laura flashed red eyes at Erica that made her hang her head for a brief second.

“It’s to the south,” Derek said, “I smell blood. A lot of it.”

“Do you smell anything else?” Lydia asked.

All the wolves shook their heads.

“I just smell…blood.” Scott said, scrunching his nose up.

Stiles figured blood probably didn’t smell that good.

Laura pointed in the direction of the Wendigo, “We stay together as a group, no one break off for anything. Everything should be fine, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Stiles and Lydia groaned in unison.

“Really?” Stiles sighed, “Famous last words, Laura.”

Laura rolled her eyes again and stuck her tongue out at him for good measure. It was a nice reminder that even 27-year-old Alpha werewolves were allowed to be a little immature sometimes.

“Stiles, can you kill the lights?” Laura asked, pointing up at the glowing orbs that were still floating through their part of the forest.

“Right. Lights aren’t very stealthy.” Stiles held his hands out flat, then quickly clapped them together.

The lights flickered before disappearing altogether, one by one.

They made a brisk pace through the forest after that. None of them were quite as stealthy as Laura and Derek, born wolves who moved through the forest without making a sound as if it was their home. Erica was the best at stealth out of the bitten wolves, and they were lucky if Scott went more than a few seconds without stepping on a large branch and splintering it.

Stiles and Lydia kept to the center, surrounded by a ring of wolves. They were still the squishiest members of team werewolf, even if Lydia wasn’t altogether human and Stiles did have magic now. It seemed natural for the wolves to want to protect them, like they made the formation up in their head without even thinking about it.

“Voices,” Erica whispered after they’d spent a few minutes jogging in the direction of the Wendigo, “I hear voices.”

Before anyone could speak, Stiles stopped abruptly and clutched at his forearm. He hissed as a sharp pain hit him, it felt like something was clawing into his arm. Which, technically, something was.

“Laura.” Stiles said through gritted teeth, holding up his arm.

Laura looked at him, her eyes softening, “I wished you’d picked a better way to do this.”

“It’s fine,” Stiles smiled through the pain, “it will be gone in a minute.”

Derek’s hand slipped under the back of his shirt, and Stiles let out a soft sigh as he felt the pain start to leach from his body. Derek didn’t say anything about this particular method of magic since they’d already gone several rounds over it in the last few weeks.

Stiles rolled the sleeve of his shirt up and turned the underside of his arm upwards. He looked down at the word scrawled in angry red letters that was already starting to disappear.

 

**_STOP_ **

****

Derek pulled his hand back, running his finger over Stiles’ arm as the letters faded. It was an imperfect warning system, but Stiles and Lydia had spent three days straight reading through Mariska’s books and they agreed with her conclusion that a warning spell that was coded to the caster’s skin was the most fool proof and accurate method.

“You know what this means.” Derek said, his eyes drifting over Laura’s shoulders.

“She’s out here.” Scott said, frowning.

Allison was out somewhere in the preserve, and if Allison was out in the middle of the night it more than likely meant that Gerard was too. They’d managed to avoid any run-ins with the man since he’d made a semi-permanent home in Beacon Hills, and Stiles wasn’t in any hurry to become formally acquainted.

Gerard showed up a few weeks after Kate was killed, making his grand arrival during her funeral. Not many people went to the funeral, since Kate had been publicly branded a psychotic murderer, but from what Stiles had heard it was a dramatic affair. Gerard was unconvinced that his daughter had killed herself, and he seemed to have made it his mission to prove he was right. He’d had numerous blow ups with Stiles’ dad, with deputies and lawyers in town, even the media. Gerard was seen around town as the crazy old man who stood on his stoop yelling at kids, but Stiles and the rest of the pack knew better.

Their relationship with Allison had been changed fundamentally by Gerard’s arrival, and Scott spent most of his days gazing longingly at his phone in hopes that she’d reply to one of his daily texts.

Scott took off in the direction of the scent of blood. Maybe they all should have expected it, Scott hadn’t seen Allison in person since the night before Kate’s funeral, but they all seemed surprised.

“Fuck.” Laura growled under her breath, she yelled at Scott while still whispering, “Scott, get back here right fucking now.”

Derek sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked at Stiles, “He’s your friend.”

Derek chased after Laura, and Stiles stared at his back as he ran away. Derek said it like Stiles should have seen this coming, which he probably should have. Erica followed after everyone else, and Stiles and Lydia were left behind.

“So much for sticking together.” Stiles muttered.

Lydia pursed her lips, “If we die it’s Scott’s fault."

They ran after the rest of the pack. They weren’t too far behind, no one was using actual wolf speed when they ran. It only took Stiles and Lydia half a minute to catch up to where Laura stood with a firm hand tightly clipped to the nape of Scott’s neck. Stiles climbed the small hill, coming to a stop next to Derek, and stared down in shock at what was at the base of it.

The second Wendigo was on the ground, arrows in its side. It was held down by several long, braided cables and it struggled to get away. It was letting out low huffing sounds, spitting blood out of its mouth. A group of hunters crowded around it, all dressed in black tactical gear. Stiles could see the white shock of Gerard’s hair standing at the head of the Wendigo.

Allison was at the back of the crowd, her hands clasped together as she looked anywhere but at Gerard.

Everyone stood deathly still, and Stiles hoped that the foliage in front of them would be enough to hide them if one of the hunters looked up towards them. He hadn’t come anywhere close to mastering a concealment spell, and he risked drawing attention to themselves if he tried one and failed.

Gerard pulled out a long, silver sword. He tested the weight in his hands, swinging it back and forth the same way that a baseball player swings a bat. Gerard might be old as sin, but he wasn’t as frail and weak as he looked. Gerard walked to the side of the Wendigo, raised the sword over his head with both arms, and brought it down in one clean slice.

A spray of blood hit him as the Wendigo’s head rolled to the side, turning his white hair a muddy color.

“Jesus.” Erica whispered.

“We need to get out of here. Now.” Laura commanded, her grip on Scott’s neck tightening, “Do not _ever_ do that again. Do you understand?”

Scott bowed his head, submitted, “I’m sorry, I just-”

Laura cut him off, “I know why you did it, but you cannot keep doing stuff like this. Do you see what you almost ran head first into? Do you see how many of them are down there? Do you know what they would do to you without thinking? Do you think Allison could stop them?”

When Scott looked up, there were tears in his eyes, “I’m sorry, Laura.”

Laura looked at him for another second, her eyes hard, and then her face softened. She pulled Scott into a hug, tightly holding him against her body and running her hand through his hair. Scott rested his head against her shoulder for another second before they broke apart.

“Everyone out of the woods,” Laura said, “for better or worse, the second Wendigo is dead.”

Stiles looked back down at the bottom of the hill before walking away, and he locked eyes with Allison. Allison’s eyes went wide, he could see the way her breath hitched when she saw him, and her hand moved to the amber arrowhead that hung around her neck on a thin black strap. He waited, she waited, and then she shook her head. It was the smallest of movements, something that could just be written off as a crick in her neck. Stiles nodded, giving her one last glance before he let Derek pull him away from the hill.

No one spoke until they were back at their cars, the atmosphere was lighter now that they were away from the group of hunters and the smell of rotting Wendigo. They’d parked far enough away from where they’d seen the hunters that they could afford a moment to catch their breath. Laura sat on the hood of the Camaro while everyone else stood in front of her, an Alpha on her perch. Her eyes darted around the group, and Stiles could see them shining with happiness.

“You all did good tonight.” Laura smiled, “I’m happy, and I’m more than a little impressed.”

Everyone was smiling now, even Scott.

“Derek, good job keeping everyone in line while I was off with Lydia.”

Derek nodded.

“Lydia, you did good with watching my back. That focused scream was badass, I want to work more on things like that.”

Lydia smiled, “I’ll send you an invoice for all the cough drops I’ll need when we’re done.”

“Erica, good catch with the voices. I almost didn’t hear them myself.”

Erica smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Scott…” Laura trailed off, “don’t give me that look, you’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again, please.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Scott said, and Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to hear that it wasn’t a lie.

“Stiles, good work with the magic. The wind thing was genius, if a little terrifying.”

Stiles grinned, “Wait till I can start zapping people with lightning.”

“No!” Every single person said at the exact same time, looking terrified.

Stiles thought they might be more scared _for_ him rather than _of_ him, and he withered a bit.

Laura clapped her hands together, hopping off the hood of the Camaro. She walked to the drivers’ side, opened the door, and looked over her shoulder.

“What about the body?” Erica asked, “What happens when some hiker finds a dead Wendigo in the middle of the forest?”

“They won’t,” Lydia said, “according to multiple sources, Wendigos decompose rapidly once they die. The bodies will be nothing but dust by the time the sun comes up.”

“That’s convenient.” Erica laughed, “Easier than digging a hole big enough to fit that thing.”

“Everyone go get some sleep.” Laura said, then turning her head towards Lydia, “You’re coming with us, right?”

Lydia nodded. Her house was closer to the apartment, so Laura and Derek would drop her off on the way. Stiles would drop Erica off, and Scott was staying the night at his house. Lydia made her way to the Camaro while Scott and Erica hopped in the Jeep. Derek walked over to Stiles, winding his arms around Stiles’ waist and kissing him on the top of his head.

“How’s your arm?” Derek asked.

Stiles smiled, holding up his unmarred arm for Derek to see, “Perfect, it’s like nothing ever happened.”

“Still hate it.” Derek mumbled.

Stiles kissed him quickly, “I know.”

Derek unlaced his arms from Stiles and took a step towards the Camaro, “I’ll be at your house by ten tomorrow morning.”

Stiles blew out a breath of air, “I told you, you don’t have to keep taking me.”

“I know,” Derek shrugged, “I still want to though.”

“You’re impossible,” Stiles laughed, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Derek nodded and climbed down into the Camaro. Stiles hopped into the Jeep, cranked it, and followed the Camaro out of the small parking lot. Stiles let Erica and Scott’s soft conversation keep his attention as he tried not to fall asleep behind the wheel.

He hoped, for Scott’s sake and the sake of his own dignity, that he wouldn’t have any nightmares of old men beheading him once they finally got home and to bed.

 

X

 

Derek sat at their kitchen table, watching Laura over the edge of his glass as she paced. She’d showered off all the blood and dirt from their trip through the woods, and Derek couldn’t take her as seriously as she’d like him to when she was dressed in Piglet pajamas and had wet hair.

“I swear, Der, if Scott pulls that shit again I’m going to reach down his throat and rip the wolf out of him.”

Derek took a sip of his coffee, which he shouldn’t have been drinking at four in the morning, “I thought you said you forgave him?”

“I did! I do!” Laura flailed her arms out to the side, “That’s why I’m so pissed! I’m pissed that I can’t be pissed, because I’m too fucking happy that he’s alive and not mounted on Gerard Argent’s mantle somewhere!”

Derek sat his mug down, standing from the table and pulling Laura into a tight hug. Her wet hair seeped into his dry shirt, but he didn’t mind it. Laura hugged him back, her face nuzzling into his neck. He got where she was coming from, or at least he thought he understood it.

“Jesus, Derek,” Laura let out a shaky breath, “I cannot even begin to explain how I felt when I thought he was about to run into the middle of that death trap. My entire body felt like it was on fire.”

“He’s your first Beta,” Derek said, “or, the first person you’ve ever bitten. You’ve got a stronger bond, it made you freak out more than normal.”

Laura rubbed at her eyes, pulling away from the hug, “It figures my first bite would have to be in love with a hunter.”

“For better or worse, Scott anchored himself to her. He hasn’t seen her in months, I don’t know how much of it was Scott himself or the wolf inside.” Derek said.

“And that’s the scary part,” Laura leaned against the back of the couch, “I can understand teenage hormones and shit like that, but if the wolf itself is making him reckless…”  

“Talk to him about it after the full moon, you’ll have the perfect opportunity at the Sheriff’s barbeque.” Derek said, “He’ll have a clearer head once the moon is gone, and we all know how happy Scott gets after he’s had a good meal.”

Laura barked out a surprised laugh, “When did you become so wise and helpful?”

Derek rolled his eyes and pushed her over the back of the couch, he bit his lip at the gasp of surprise Laura made before she hit the cushions on the other side, “Someone has to keep you grounded.”

 

X

 

Allison tried to ignore the bags under her eyes as she looked into the mirror. She leaned back in the chair across from her vanity and sighed, her eyes focusing on a small crack in the corner of the ceiling. Her blinking alarm clock told her it was nearly 4am, and all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and let exhaustion carry her off to sleep.

She looked back into the mirror, using the back of her hand to wipe away smudges of dirt on her cheek. She toyed with the pendant around her neck, an amber arrowhead, and slid it along the chord of the necklace before unclasping the clip at the back and placing it in the black box on the edge of her vanity.

She thought of the woods, of the Wendigo, of the impressed comments Gerard made about the accuracy of her arrows. She thought of Stiles, the idiot, standing on the top of that hill and visible to anyone who’d have looked up at the wrong time. She knew what he was doing there, she knew that the rest of the pack was probably with him, which meant Scott had been out in the woods tonight too.

Idiots.

All of them.

Allison groaned and got up from the chair, walking a few feet and immediately flopping down into her bed. She couldn’t sleep yet though, she reached under her mattress and pulled out the small notebook that was wedged under it. She undid the lock on the front, pulled out her pen, and let the moonlight illuminate the pages as she wrote, trying not to forget a single detail.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't already seen it yet, crimsonette made a super cute character banner for this and i stuck it at the beginning of chapter one so go see it and then tell her how awesome it is! i realized when writing that i've been mentally inserting sophia bush as laura whenever i'm picturing scenes and now i think she's perfect so she's my laura forever and ever and crimsonette brought her to life.
> 
> hope you liked the chapter, i had fun writing it! i look forward to the comments!


	3. Can’t Fight the Moonlight

Chapter Three

Can’t Fight the Moonlight

 

Stiles leaned back into the chair directly across from Dr. Morell. Her dark hair was parted down the middle, and the sunlight streaming in through the open window caught the jewels on her emerald green blouse and sent prismatic beams over her leather-bound notebook. Stiles always tried to not pay attention to the notebook, to not let it drive him crazy when she started writing something after he’d finished talking.

He watched Dr. Morrell watch him, her calm demeanor never wavering even under the scrutiny of Stiles’ eyes. He’d tried to wait her out during their first session, spending most of his time trying to figure out just how old she was because wow she had to be at least 40 but still looked like she could play a teenager on TV. She’d obviously had more experience than he did though, and she sat patiently until Stiles began to speak during their last ten minutes or so.

Stiles had never liked therapy, he’d rebelled against it during the first year after his mom died. Everyone had told his dad that it would be good for him, safe for him to have someone to talk to who wouldn’t judge him for how he was feeling or reacting to things. It turned out that child therapists did judge you if you threw coffee at them and broke one of their windows with a brick made of Lego.

Dr. Morrell was a fully licensed therapist who just happened to run a second, smaller practice that specialized in therapy for the supernatural and humans who’d been involved in supernatural affairs. She wouldn’t discuss her patients, obviously, but from the way Derek’s hackles always raised when they got close to the building Stiles assumed there were more than just werewolves who sought help from Dr. Morrell.

“Did you guys feel the earthquake here?” Stiles asked.

Dr. Morrell was based in a larger city a little over an hour away from Beacon Hills, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that they’d feel some reverberating shocks from the quake. In any case, it was a good opener for a conversation.

Dr. Morrell shook her head, “No, we weren’t affected at all. How did you fare during it?”

“There wasn’t much property damage, so it could have been worse.” Stiles said.

Dr. Morrell smiled, “I didn’t ask how the town fared, Stiles. I asked how _you_ did.”

Stiles shrugged, “It wasn’t that big of a deal. Derek woke me up from…before the quake actually hit so we got to safety. Having a werewolf around can be handy sometimes.”

“How were you sleeping before the quake?” Dr. Morrell narrowed her eyes, obviously having caught his slip up.

It wasn’t that Stiles was trying to hide the nightmare from her, he just didn’t think it was relevant. Dr. Morrell thought everything was relevant though. Stiles resented that part of her just a tiny bit.

Stiles sighed, shifting back in the chair, “I was having a nightmare before the earthquake.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Dr. Morrell asked, writing a note in her book.

“Do I have a choice?” Stiles laughed.

“Of course,” Dr. Morrell smiled, “you always have a choice.”

Stiles sighed, running his hands over the smooth leather of the chair, “It wasn’t that bad as far as some nightmares I’ve had are concerned. I was driving my jeep, it crashed, I ran into the woods, and the Nemeton talked to me.”

Dr. Morrell blinked, “The Nemeton spoke to you?”

Stiles nodded, “Yep, the creepy tree that’s a star player in all my dreams now has a voice.”

“Do you remember what it said?” Dr. Morrell asked.

Stiles chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to remember. Most of the dream was fuzzy, blurred around the edges the way most dreams are when you try to remember them. He remembered feeling scared, running through the woods to the Nemeton, and he could hear the bass of the tree’s voice in his head, but the words escaped him.

“I don’t remember.” Stiles answered honestly, “I couldn’t exactly add it to the dream journal on account of the earthquake.”

On Dr. Morrell’s urging, Stiles had started a dream journal. Every time he woke from a dream or a nightmare, he’d try to immediately write down as much information about it as he could remember. Dr. Morrell said that dreams and nightmares were usually our subconscious talking to us, but the nature of dreaming meant that we forgot what happened rather quickly. The dream journal let him capture what happened, while also relieving him of the tension of keeping some particularly terrible nightmares bottled up inside.

Stiles found it cathartic, it felt to him like he was releasing the negative energies of the dreams onto the paper. It might be hard to write about how he felt when the roots of the Nemeton pierced his skin and ripped him apart, write about the terror he felt when he dreamed of Kate Argent and her claws raking over his body, but he always felt better after he was done. The nightmares were committed to their page, and once he closed the cover of the book they were locked away in a place far from his mind.

“How has everything else been?” Dr. Morrell asked.

“We killed a Wendigo last night,” Stiles said, taking a little bit of victory in the way that Morrell’s eyes went wide for a fraction of a second, “I mean, the Wendigo was wild and had killed people, so we had to kill it before it killed more people.”

“You just used the word kill four times in one sentence.” Dr. Morrell pointed out, writing another note in her notebook.

Stiles chewed on his cheek for a second, “I mean, Beacon Hills seems like it has a way with the whole vicious cycle of killing thing. Things had been quiet since Kate died, but I just can’t shake this feeling that something is going to start happening again. I…the day dad said they’d found bodies in the preserve it was like someone reached into my chest and ripped my heart out.”

“It’s good you don’t like the killing, we’d be having an entirely different conversation if you did.” Dr. Morrell smiled, “What do you think would happen if you didn’t involve yourself in these kinds of situations though? How would you feel if you, by all accounts a human, took a step back and left dealing the supernatural matters to the rest of your friends?”

“Useless,” Stiles said, almost immediately, “I’d feel useless, and like I was a coward.”

“A coward? Why?”

“Everyone else would be out there fighting, risking themselves to protect people, I couldn’t sit back and not do anything. I…what would they think of me?” Stiles felt his heart start to beat a little faster.

Dr. Morrell made another note, “Do you care more about protecting the people of Beacon Hills, or do you care what your pack would think of you if you took a step back? Are you worried what Derek would think of you?”

Stiles sucked in a sharp breath and looked over his shoulder. His eyes fell on the heavy oak door that lead out to the waiting room, the room that Derek was probably sitting in while he watched the cluster of fish swim around in Dr. Morrell’s fish tank. When Stiles left his first appointment he’d found Derek reading a thin copy of Highlights and he hadn’t been able to think about it without laughing ever since.

“You know the office is soundproof, Stiles.” Dr. Morrell said, “Derek can’t hear anything you’re going to say.”

Stiles shook his head, “I’m not worried about Derek hearing anything.”

He honestly wasn’t. So far he’d shared pretty much every detail of his therapy sessions with Dr. Morrell, and Derek always listened. Derek never asked first, never asked a question that would require Stiles to lie, he always let Stiles come to him first.

Stiles loved him for that.

“Tell me what you’re worried about.”

“Derek would honestly probably love it if I wasn’t useful, if I didn’t run head first into danger to try and help. Laura too, it would take a load off their shoulders knowing they didn’t have to worry about me. They wouldn’t find me useless if I decided to not do anything from now on, but I’d hate myself. If something happened to any of them and I wasn’t there, it would eat me alive for the rest of my life. I’d spend every day wondering if I could have saved them if I was there, if whatever this fucking magic I have would have been enough to keep them alive.”

“Stop me if I’m wrong,” Dr. Morrell said, folding her notebook, and leaning forward, “but if something did happen to a member of your pack while you were around, you would feel the same way.”

She said to stop her if she was wrong, so Stiles let her keep talking.

“Even if you were there, on the front-line fighting tooth and nail, you would still think you did something wrong. You would think you weren’t enough, your magic wasn’t strong enough, you didn’t react fast enough, a million little possibilities would swarm your head and you would let them.”

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, “What does that mean?”

“It means you’ll never be able to save everyone, no matter what you do.” Dr. Morrell smiled softly, “You’re so worried about inevitabilities that you’re not paying attention to anything else. You have people who love you, an entire family, and you don’t think you’re good enough.”

Stiles felt like he’d been slapped. And struck by lightning.

“You got all that from a dream about a talking tree?” Stiles said with a dry laugh, his voice hoarse.

“I got that from three months’ worth of therapy sessions.” Dr. Morrell said softly.

Stiles let the clock run out on the rest of the session. He was done, drained, emptied out by that bitch slap of a realization. He couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t have processed anything else Dr. Morrell would have said. The final ten minutes of their appointment passed mercifully fast, and Stiles shot up from the chair the second the timer on Dr. Morrell’s watch beeped.

“Stiles,” Dr. Morrell said when Stiles’ hand fell onto the doorknob, “for the sake of your mental health, try not to dwell on the what-if of every situation, OK?”

Stiles nodded once, a quick jerk of his chin, and all but ran into the waiting room. Derek looked up the second Stiles passed through the second glass door, and he smiled. Derek’s smile was all Stiles needed to center himself, to find his way out of the haze of realization he was in.

Stiles hugged him, tightly, and felt his body go slack when Derek’s hands rested across his back.

“Food?” Derek asked softly.

Stiles nodded against Derek’s chest, “God, please.”

They didn’t speak as they exited the office. Stiles’ hand found Derek’s squeezing gratefully as Derek threaded their fingers together. The sun felt warm on his skin, it helped sooth some of the buzzing he’d felt in his body. They walked down the side street between Dr. Morrell’s office and a printing place, only stopping when they made it to the door of the small diner they’d discovered after Stiles’ second visit.

They ordered their usual orders, and Stiles sipped his cup of ice cold water for a few minutes before he spoke.

“Dr. Morrell says I have to stop obsessing about you dying.”

Derek, bless him, adapted to the grenade with grace, “Just me in general…”

Stiles shook his head, clarifying, “Everyone.”

“Stiles.” Derek said softly.

“I think about it all the time, which shouldn’t really come as a surprise. I think about what could happen when we break off into groups to patrol the preserve, I always think about how I wouldn’t be there to help if something happened to the group without me. Like, what if Erica and Lydia go off one way, and me and you go the other, and then Erica and Lydia die because I wasn’t there to save them?” Stiles took a deep breath, “Do you want to know the fucked up part?”

“That wasn’t the fucked up part?” Derek asked.

“No!” Stiles groaned, “The fucked up part is that Dr. Morrell decided to drop a bomb on me, making me realize that even if I was there to protect them and they still died, I’d still blame myself!”

“You can’t save everyone, Stiles.” Derek said softly.

And now Stiles felt like a piece of shit, because if anyone knew that it was Derek Fucking Hale.

“Shit.” Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face, “I’m sorry, I…I’m not supposed to be dwelling on the what-if. So. This is me. Not dwelling.”

“Do you want to keep talking about it?” Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head quickly, “No. I hate therapy.”

Derek laughed, “No you don’t.”

Derek was right, he didn’t hate it. He just hated how it made him feel, hated how it made him confront things. Stiles was notorious for not wanting to confront things, unless, apparently, those things were tangible with claws that were trying to rip him open. That was part of the whole problem.

“There’s a market nearby that sells ground buffalo,” Derek said, swiftly changing the subject, “I thought we could get some before we head back so your dad could still have red meat at the barbecue without _you_ having a heart attack?”

Stiles leaned across the booth and grabbed either side of Derek’s face with both hands, hoping he could convey how grateful he was to Derek for _being_ _Derek_ with a single kiss.

 

X

 

Laura stood on what used to be the front porch of the Hale House. She looked up at the sky, tilted her head back, and let the warm beams of the full moon wash over her skin. Nothing else felt like this, like being home under the full moon with a full pack. Laura never thought she’d feel it again, not after her family died, but looking out at the small pack in front of her filled her with the overwhelming sense of comfort and familiarity.

Derek was unloading coolers from the back of Stiles’ jeep, placing them in a neat line on the ground. Stiles, Scott, and Lydia were near the tree line talking, and Laura smiled when she saw that Scott’s eyes were already glowing gold.

The Sheriff had just pulled into the clearing, and Erica tensed at Laura’s side as she tracked him getting out of the car. The Sheriff waved at them, Laura smiled and nodded, and he went over to talk to Stiles. Laura reached over and dropped a reassuring hand on the back of Erica’s neck.

“You’ve got this, I promise.” Laura said softly.

“Are you sure?” Erica looked up at her, eyes glowing gold.

Laura laughed, “Erica, we wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t think you could handle this. You’ve shown incredible control since the last full moon, you’re ready to run with everyone. I know you’re scared, I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, but you trust me, right?”

“Of course,” Erica answered immediately, “I trust you.”

“Good,” Laura nodded, “then trust that I won’t let you hurt anyone even if you do lose control. Lydia and Stiles are safe, hell, they can take care of themselves for the most part, and the Sheriff isn’t staying so there’s no one around that you could possibly hurt.”

Erica took a deep breath, “OK. I’m…I’m ready.”

Laura squeezed the back of her neck one final time before dropping the hand and stepping to the edge of the porch. She clapped her hands once, and all eyes turned to her. Erica galloped down the steps and walked over to Derek, stopping next to him, and putting as much distance between herself and the Sheriff as she possibly could. It was surreal standing on the porch looking down at them, she tried hard not to think about how the house behind her was a shadow of its former self, tried not to think about how she was pretty sure the Sheriff’s cruiser was parked in the same spot that Allison killed Kate, and focused on the pack standing in front of her.

Laura cleared her throat, “Alright, I think we know why we’re all here?”

“To party?” Stiles yelled, “I’m here to get fucked up!”

“Stiles!” The Sheriff scolded, “Seriously? Who raised you?”

Laura rolled her eyes, “Need I remind you that in a few minutes I will be shifted into something that is twice your body weight and that I can, and will, tackle you onto the ground and slobber all over your face?”

Stiles’ lips formed a thin line, “No, you do not.”

Laura winked at him, “This is Erica’s first run with us, but not much else is going to be different. We’ll stay close to her, try to guide her back if it seems like her control is slipping, but other than that we’re just here to have fun. Stiles and Lydia, you know we won’t leave you behind but don’t feel any pressure to keep up with us, we’ll always circle back to you. We’re not going to stray too far into the preserve because of the company we have in town, but I trust Stiles’ magic to warn us if we’re in any immediate danger.”

Movement from behind the pack drew Laura’s eye, she tensed for a second, her claws ready to pop out, until she saw a flash of blue eyes from the darkness. Everyone turned as Peter stepped out of the tree line and into the clearing in front of the house. His posture was relaxed, but he was looking everywhere but the shell of their former home. She honestly hadn’t expected him to show up when she sent the text to him, she’d sent it every month since he’d been back, but he never came to any of their runs.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Peter said smoothly, “Continue on, Alpha.”

Peter’s acknowledgement of her status, even if it was lightly passive-aggressive, made Laura’s chest clench. They’d made strides in repairing their relationship over the last few months, but more often than not they were on shaky ground.

“Right,” Laura took a deep breath, “everyone stay vigilant, but I truly don’t think Gerard would try anything tonight.”

“I…might have eyes on the Argent house,” The Sheriff said, his scent spiked with just a bit of shame, “he hasn’t left the house all night and no one has come or gone.”

Peter clicked his tongue, “My, my, Noah. You fall in with a bunch of predators and suddenly you’re pushing the boundaries of that badge as far as you can.”

Laura opened her mouth to try to reel Peter in, but the Sheriff beat her to it.

He gave Peter a flat look, “More like I have a man in town who’s all but threatened me and several of my deputies, it doesn’t take much convincing to have a deputy sit on him for a few hours every so often.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, but Laura figured they were in the clear when he rolled his eyes with dramatic flair. Laura had no idea what was going on with Peter and the Sheriff most of the time, and she honestly didn’t want to know.

“Well, I think that covers it.” Laura smiled, “Any questions?”

The Sheriff raised his hand, “Can you make sure you tell me when you’re about to take your clothes off so I can leave before I see anything?”

Laura laughed, loud and clear enough for it to echo through the trees. Stiles choked on the water he was drinking, Derek sighed and patted him on the back through the coughing fit. Peter just sighed and walked back into the trees.

“Consider this your warning then.”

The Sheriff nodded, walking over to Stiles, and hugging him before waving goodbye to everyone else and pulling his cruiser back down the overgrown gravel driveway. Laura waited until the car was out of earshot to start stripping off her clothes, and she leaned down into the full shift the second her legs were free of her pants.

The shift came so much easier since the pack had grown. Before, when it was just her and Derek alone, it felt like someone was taking a hammer to every single one of her bones every time she shifted into a wolf. She fought her way through the pain, most of the time the full shift was the only thing that saved them in a fight, but she’d hated how it made her feel. It was almost a reminder that they were alone, that she was being punished for living and becoming the alpha before her time.

But now that she was an Alpha with a new pack, the full shift came easily. Her bones no longer felt like they were being hammered and splintered, it felt like her body was just reforming itself into something it was always meant to be. The full shift was no longer a burden, it was a precious gift that she felt honored to have every time she fell onto four legs.

She made her way around the pack, bumping her head into the leg of each member and letting them run their hand through the thick fur of her neck. She lingered on Erica for a few extra seconds, pressing her head into Erica’s stomach in a final communication that Laura was completely there for her.

Even Peter stepped back out of the forest, walking over to Laura, and dropping down onto one knee in front of her. He looked at her, amusement sparkling in his eyes, and Laura did the only thing she could think of doing. She licked him in the face. One long, wet stripe of tongue up the center of his face. Peter sputtered, rubbing at his face as Laura leaned back on her haunches. Peter so rarely let anyone see him flustered that Laura took a mental snapshot of his face before standing and pressing her head into his leg. Peter hesitated for a moment, but his hand fell into the fur of Laura’s neck and lingered for a second before he pulled it back to his chest.

Laura looked at the rest of the pack behind her, barked once, and then took off into the forest. She could hear, could feel, the rest of the pack thundering behind her as she ran. Peter was closest, nipping at her heels quite literally, Derek just behind her, Erica sandwiched in between him and Scott, and Stiles and Lydia rounded out the back. She could feel pulses of Stiles’ magic around her, and that was just as comfortable as the pack bonds that tugged in her chest.

They moved into a looser formation as they got further away from the house, moving from a straight line into more of a fanned-out cluster. Laura was conscious of Erica as they moved, but there’d been no signs of distress so far, even when Stiles caught up with her and bumped their shoulders together. Derek lopped behind Stiles and scooped him off the ground, drawing a startled yelp out of Stiles as Derek manhandled him until he was giving Stiles a piggyback ride.

Laura watched in a mixture of amusement and awe as Stiles conjured a small cluster of glowing lights like he’d done when they fought the Wendigo. The lights drifted around the pack, following them like a sparkling cloud. Peter’s heart skipped a beat and he sucked in a surprised breath when several of the orbs fell on his shoulders, but he didn’t make a move to brush them off.

They ran for another half an hour, periodically slowing down so the humans could catch up, and then darting off again while laughing at their protests. Laura was never far from them, but she did get a kick out of the way Stiles’ voice rose in pitch every time he’d caught up to the wolves only to be left behind again.

They circled back towards the house, coming to a stop in a small clearing about two miles away from it. Laura sat back and watched as Erica chased Scott, climbing in and out of trees in order to try and pounce on him. Derek sat to her right, laughing every time Scott yelped because Erica had just flipped him onto the ground again.

Peter somehow convinced Stiles to essentially put on a magic show, but Peter mocked his spellcasting form, so Stiles picked up a nearby log with his magic and threw it at Peter. Peter dodged it, naturally, but he couldn’t quite stop the pile of leaves that Stiles dropped on his head afterwards. Peter’s fangs dropped, and the sound of Stiles’ squeal could almost be heard over Peter’s responding snarl. Derek got up to intervene, but Laura stopped him with a paw on his leg.

Derek looked down at her in confusion, but Laura just flicked her head back towards them so Derek would pay attention to what was happening. Peter had picked Stiles up, flipped him over, and was currently dangling him upside down by his ankle. Derek’s lip curled back in a growl, and Laura sighed and bumped her head against his leg to get him to sit down.

Stiles’ laugh drifted towards them, delighted and full of life. Derek relaxed at the sound, but the tension didn’t leave Derek’s shoulders until Stiles squirmed his way out of Peter’s grip and had both his feet back on the ground. His feet didn’t stay on the ground for long, because Peter then started to taunt Stiles about how terrible he was at levitating himself off the ground.

“I am not terrible!” Stiles protested, ears turning red.

Peter laughed, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Prove it.”

Laura had watched Stiles try to accomplish this particular feat several times, and the last time he’d tried it in the apartment she wound up having to buy a new coffee table because Stiles crashed into the old one and broke it in half. Laura could see what Peter was doing though, he was helping Stiles by challenging him. Peter knew better than anyone else they had available what it took to practice competent magic, and it made Laura happy that Peter was invested enough in Stiles to help him.

His methods might need work though, because the second Stiles got himself an inch or two off the ground, Peter poked him in his ribs and Stiles fell flat on his ass.

“You’re such a dick!” Stiles groaned, wiping the dirt off himself.

Peter hummed, shrugging, “I’ve been called worse.”

They made their way back to the old house after that. Laura could tell everyone was tired, herself included. She shifted back, dressed, and split the pack between both cars.

“We’ve got Chinese food to nuke back to life at the apartment, who’s hungry?” Laura asked.

Every hand went up, except for Peter. Laura didn’t expect him to come back to the apartment for the full moon slumber party, not when there was a teenager presumably asleep at Peter’s own apartment. Laura walked over to him, pulling Peter into a quick hug. Peter went rigid, but awkwardly hugged her back after a few seconds.  

“We’re having a barbecue at Stiles’ house tomorrow,” Laura said, “you should come. Bring Isaac, he’s more than welcome.”

Laura still thought the Isaac thing was a bit weird, though she didn’t have as strong of an opinion as other people did. She knew what Peter did to his father, anyone with eyes who knew Peter knew what he’d done to Frank Lahey, but Laura couldn’t say she minded that part. From all accounts, Frank Lahey was a massive piece of shit and deserved worse than…drunkenly falling down the stairs and breaking his neck.

Laura had only met Isaac a handful of times, though Peter made it vibrantly clear that Isaac knew about the existence of werewolves. She was waiting for someone to broach the subject of the bite, but so far Peter hadn’t said a word about it. Maybe Isaac being human was like a little part of Joshua coming back to him.

Peter cleared his throat, and Laura realized she’d been staring off into the woods.

“Sorry.” Laura shook her head, “Come though, please?”

Peter sighed, “I highly doubt the last place Noah wants me is in his home.”

“Dude, you’ve been in my house a million times.” Stiles rolled his eyes, “Well, not a million, but at least five times.”

Peter looked at them both, his eyes narrowed, and he turned on his heel and walked towards the woods.

“I’ll think about it.”

Derek came up behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ stomach and leaning down to rest his chin on Stiles’ shoulder Laura couldn’t resist smiling at the way they both leaned into each other, but she schooled her expression so she wouldn’t embarrass them. Laura could be a cool sister occasionally.

“The natives are getting restless.” Stiles flicked his eyes over Laura’s shoulder.

Scott and Erica were growling at each other, teeth bared. Lydia was standing off to the side, eyes calculating like she was trying to figure out which of their eardrums would bleed the most if she screamed at them.

Laura shook her head, “Split them up between the cars. Stiles, you’ve got Derek and Scott and I’ll take Erica and Lydia.”

“Boys versus girls?” Stiles’ eyes lit up with excitement.

Laura rolled her eyes, “We’re not racing, Stiles.”

Stiles sighed, defeated, and untangled himself from Derek.

Laura turned and made her way to gather Erica and Lydia, looking over her shoulder and grinning at Stiles, “Besides, we all know the Camaro would beat your hunk of junk no contest.”

Stiles’ indignant squawk was the last thing she heard before Derek ushered him off towards the Jeep.

 

X

 

“You look cute in an apron.”

Derek turned to find Stiles leaning against the kitchen table, raking his eyes down Derek’s body. Derek looked down at the apron, a simple red and white colored one he’d gotten at the grocery store on a whim, and then back at Stiles. Derek was pretty sure Stiles would think he looked good in anything, which was flattering at least.

“You going to stand there gawking or are you going to help?” Derek raised an eyebrow, pointing to the salad bowl on the counter.

Stiles shrugged and opened the fridge, pulling out the seven bags of lettuce they’d picked up at the store earlier in the day. He reached into the cupboard next to the fridge and pulled out another bowl. It was probably for the best, they’d learned at the last barbecue that their current crop of werewolves could demolish a salad with the same ruthless efficiency as two dozen hotdogs.

Derek let the sounds of the pack in the backyard distract him as he got to work cutting the various vegetables that would end up as burger toppings in the next hour or so. It was a comforting sound, he could hear Scott and Erica talking in hushed voices, heard Laura laughing at one of the Sheriff’s dad jokes. It reminded him of life before the fire, of the day after the full moon when everyone would pull their weight in the kitchen working on a feast to replenish everyone after their run the previous night.

Their pack wasn’t anywhere as large as Derek’s family, but he was glad Laura insisted they continue the tradition.

A thump from Stiles’ direction startled him, and Derek turned just in time to be hit in the face with a leaf of lettuce. Stiles’ heart was hammering out of his chest, and when Derek clear the rogue lettuce from his face he found Peter looming over Stiles with a grin. Derek just sighed and rolled his eyes, he should probably have a talk with Stiles soon about how to not make himself such an easy target for Peter.

Derek noticed Isaac out of the corner of his eye, hovering in between the living room and the kitchen. Derek hadn’t excepted either of them to actually show up, so he was already readjusting the amount of ingredients in his head.

Stiles punched Peter in the chest, and Derek was surprised when Peter actually staggered back a step, “Where did you come from?”

“The front door, I assume you’ve heard of it?” Peter grinned again.

“I assume you’ve heard of something called a doorbell?” Stiles glared at him, “Or do you just make it a habit of letting yourself into other peoples’ houses to scare the shit out of them and ruining a perfectly good salad?”

Peter shrugged, “If I did that I wouldn’t get to see this delightful look on your face. Besides, if I can sneak into a house filled with werewolves, a banshee, a witch, and our fine elected leader of law enforcement then I think we have a bigger problem on our hands than a ruined salad.”

Stiles looked like he wanted to continue to argue the point, but Derek knew how hopeless that would be.

“Stiles,” Derek said as Stiles opened his mouth again, “I heard him come in.”

“You could have warned a guy.” Stiles huffed, then glared at Peter again and pointed to the mound of lettuce on the floor, “You’re cleaning that up.”

Derek left Stiles and Peter to each other and turned, “Hey, Isaac.”

Isaac’s heartbeat jumped a second, like he was surprised he was actually being acknowledged, and he took an awkward step into the kitchen, “Uh…hi.”

Derek hadn’t had many interactions with Isaac. He’d come to their pack training once, but he’d spent most of the time sitting by himself and watching everyone with a look of awe on his face. Derek liked him, as much as you could like someone you’d only spoken to a handful of times. He didn’t smell overwhelmingly of terror and sadness like he had the first time Peter introduced him to everyone, so maybe Peter was doing him some good. The idea of that being a possibility seemed foreign to Derek, but then he remembered how Peter had been with Joshua. Peter would have gone to the ends of the earth for his son, and maybe the fire changed Peter in different ways than it had changed Derek and Laura, but maybe Isaac was proof that there was still a part of the old Peter inside somewhere.

Isaac was staring at him now, and Derek didn’t know what else to do. He looked over his shoulder and grabbed the first thing he saw, a bag of baby carrots that were supposed to be for one of Stiles’ salads, and held it out to Isaac in offering.

“Carrot?” Derek asked.

Isaac blinked at him, confusion settling across his face before he slowly reached out and pulled a carrot out of the bag, “Thanks…”

“Dude! Isaac!” Stiles said from Derek’s side, “I didn’t know you were coming!”

Isaac’s head swing to Stiles, he paused mid bite of the carrot and looked up at Peter with eyes filled with worry, whispering, “You said I was invited.”

“You totally were, dude. You’re like, always invited.” Stiles grinned, seemingly happy to abandon his crusade over the lost salad.

Derek picked up a stack of paper plates and handed them to Stiles, “Your dad is asking for these. Also, Laura needs someone to help her set up the extra folding table and Lydia says she can’t because she just got a manicure.”

“I can help.” Isaac said, “If that’s OK.”

Derek smiled at him, nodding, “I’m sure Laura would appreciate it.”

Stiles took the plates from Derek’s hand, “Come on, I’ll show you out back. We were going to buy one of those long picnic tables, but no one could figure out how to actually get it to the back of the house, even with all that werewolf strength, so we just settled on getting a few of those folding plastic tables with some chairs until we can figure out how to get a fifteen foot long picnic table airlifted into the backyard.”

Isaac followed Stiles out of the kitchen, casting one final glance over his shoulder at Peter. Isaac’s eyes were wide, probably with a mixture of fear and fascination. Stiles was still talking, doing the only thing he knew how to do when he was put in an awkward situation. Stiles filled the dead air with the sound of his voice. Derek was sure that by the time he and Isaac made it to the backyard that Isaac would know all about the time in third grade when Stiles liberated the class tarantula by stealing it during recess and releasing it into the wild.

“Do you think he’ll ever grow out of the babbling?” Peter asked, scooping up the ruined lettuce on the floor.

Derek sighed, turning back to his vegetables, “If he hasn’t by now then there’s probably no hope.”

Peter settled next to him, pulling a knife out of the butcher’s block, and grabbing a tomato to slice. Derek felt awkward, but Peter didn’t say anything one way or the other. They worked in silence, efficiently making their way through the stacks of vegetables in half the time it would have taken Derek if he would have done it by himself. Peter’s eyes were shifted as he cut the onions, and Derek couldn’t resist a small laugh at them.

“What?” Peter asked, arching an eyebrow.

Derek cleared his throat, trying to school his face back into a more neutral expression, “Nothing, it was just your eyes.”

“I’m glad you find my eyes amusing, Derek.” Peter rolled said eyes as he walked over to the sink to deposit the knife.

“You used to do that when I was younger,” Derek said, “when you helped mom with the cooking, you would shift your eyes while you were cutting onions.”

Peter shrugged, “I’ve always had sensitive eyes.”

“It was a nice memory.” Derek said, his back to Peter as he gathered the cut vegetables and placed them on a tray.

Peter didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave the kitchen either. He stood against the fridge, half watching Derek and half watching Isaac through the sliding glass door out back. Derek finished loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, dried his hands off on his apron, and looked at Peter.

“How’s Isaac doing?”

Peter blinked several times in a row, the only sign that he was surprised by the question, “About as well as someone in his position can be doing.”

Derek watched Peter’s profile, he could see the way he melted from the sarcastic, slightly murderous uncle, to the concerned parent. It was nice, Derek thought, that Isaac had someone like Peter. Peter’s methods might not always be the most moral, but he did everything he could for the people he cared about, even if it sometimes didn’t go the way he intended.

“What you did for him was nice.” Derek said.

Peter smirked, sliding back into the evil uncle role with ease, “Yes, well, who doesn’t love a bit of vengeful murder when it benefits multiple parties.”

Derek sighed, raking a hand through his hair, “That’s not what I meant.”

“I suppose not.” Peter said, slipping around the corner and out of the kitchen.

Derek shook his head, gathered the trays of vegetables, and tried not to wonder where Peter disappeared to.

 

X

 

“You think Coach will let me do this in a game next year?” Stiles asked, lifting his hand to levitate the lacrosse stick next to him, “I could totally be a ringer, the other teams would never see me coming!”

Stiles stood back and let the lacrosse stick fly around in a circle, sweeping under Scott’s feet to surprise him. Scott let out a very non-werewolf approved yelp as he slipped backwards and landed on his back with a thud. Erica doubled over with laughter, and even Lydia cracked a smile behind the rim of her cup.

“What the hell?” Scott cried, pushing himself up on his elbows, “That was not cool!”

Stiles shrugged, “So you can use your brand new wolfy powers to make it off the bench but I can’t?”

“My wolfy powers aren’t as obvious as a _levitating lacrosse stick_!” Scott sounded offended, which made Stiles laugh even more.

“Because a former asthmatic who couldn’t run one lap around the track without needing his inhaler suddenly being able to do a backflip to dodge someone and score a goal is so much less conspicuous.”

Scott glared at him, “The backflip was one time! And it was an accident!”

“How do you accidentally backflip over someone?” Laura sighed, shaking her head from her seat under one of the large trees in the yard.

“It was instinct!” Scott defended himself.

“Well, get ready to test out your instinctive backflips at training on Monday.” Laura got up and walked over to the grill with Stiles’ dad.

Scott groaned, “I hate all of you.”

Stiles let the lacrosse stick drop and looked over his shoulder at Isaac. Isaac was still standing off to the side, awkwardly holding onto an unopened bottle of water with an iron grip. Stiles felt for him, he knew the very basics of what had happened to Isaac when he was with his dad, and he could only imagine how much of an outsider Isaac felt like.

“Hey, Isaac,” Stiles said, drawing Isaac’s attention, “Scott, Erica, and I are going to start some pre-season practices if you want to join us.”

“Erica’s joining the lacrosse team?” Isaac’s eyes went wide.

Erica laughed, “God no. I just really like the idea of chasing Scott and Stiles around a field while making them scream for their lives.”

Which…wasn’t the most ringing endorsement Erica could have given Isaac.

“You should come,” Erica grinned, “we can team up against them and see who can make Stiles cry first.”

And Erica slid back in for the save.

Isaac laughed, and he seemed to be surprised by it, “Uh, sure?”

“Sweet!” Stiles grinned, pulling out his phone, “What’s your number? I’ll text you everyone else’s so we can start a group chat.”

Isaac’s grip on the water bottle loosened, and he sat it down on one of the tables before slowly walking over to the group and pulling out his phone. His shoulders were rigid for a moment, but they relaxed just a bit once Stiles put Isaac’s number in his phone and texted him Scott and Erica’s contact details.

Stiles counted it as a win.

 

X

 

Peter let himself explore the Stilinski household unencumbered. He’d only seen the lower level during his previous visits, never once venturing near the stairs. He took advantage of the lack of supervision and silently slipped upstairs, leaving Derek alone in the kitchen. He could hear Isaac outside, glanced out the window to see him tossing a ball back and forth with Stiles, and that was enough for Peter.

He made his way up the stairs, eyes trailing over the happy family pictures hung on the walls. He looked at pictures of Noah and Claudia, smiling, kissing, hugging. Claudia was just as beautiful and effervescent as she had been in high school, the bell of the ball. Anyone would have died to be with her, and Noah Stilinski was the lucky man who won her heart.

The second floor of the house wasn’t grand or special, it was little more than a long hallway that broke off into sperate bedrooms. He ignored Stiles’, because there was zero need for him to find out what he and Derek spent so much time in there doing. Peter cringed at the idea.

The bathroom was unremarkable, though it could stand for an update.

The spare bedroom was little more than an enlarged storage closet with an extra bed in it. The door at the end of the hall though, that room interested Peter more than it possibly should have.

Peter opened the door to the master bedroom, slightly surprised by the size of it. It was larger than Peter had expected, Peter smirked at that particular memory, and positively spotless. There wasn’t a single discarded article of clothing on the ground, the bed was made, all drawers closed. There was a safe in the closet, Peter assumed there was a gun inside of it, he leaned in close and backed away instantly. The smell of wolfsbane wasn’t something that could be contained in a cheap iron box.

Noah was prepared for the things that went bump in the night.

Good.

Peter walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, bouncing slightly to test the springs of the mattress. He was surprised to find that it was memory foam instead. He smirked, imagining Noah thinking it was some kind of treat to himself to spend the money for that kind of mattress.

There was a framed photo of Claudia on the bedside table. She was smiling, brown hair pulled up in a bun as her bright eyes sparkled even in a photograph. A simple metal chain was draped over the picture frame, Peter followed the length of it down to where three rings dangled at the bottom. Two solid gold bands, one thicker than the other, and a less than impressive diamond ring situated between the two of them. Wedding rings.

Peter looked up when he heard footsteps in the hallway. He didn’t move, he probably could have made it out the window before the owner of the heavy footsteps made it to their room, but Peter was bored and desperate for entertainment.

Noah opened the door to his room absently, turning to shut it behind him. There were several large red stains on the front of Noah’s shirt, his nose identified them as ketchup and not blood, he watched Noah pull the shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor.

Noah turned and startled, reaching for a gun he wasn’t wearing when he finally saw Peter sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hello.” Peter grinned, “Accident?”

Noah’s heart was pounding with adrenaline, “Fucking…Peter.”

Peter nodded again, “You should work on your reaction time.”

Noah glared at him, “I shouldn’t even be surprised that you’re in here.”

“Probably not.” Peter shrugged, standing from the bed, and walking over to the closet.

He opened the doors and was assaulted with the scent of Noah. He ignored it, thumbing his way through the shirts in the closet until he found one that looked worn out enough. He pulled it off the hanger and tossed it to Noah. Noah caught it and looked down at it for a moment before pulling it on.

“Bring back any memories?” Peter asked, leaning against the wall.

Noah rolled his eyes, ignoring the question, “Why are you in here, Peter?”

“I was bored.” Peter said, the only explanation needed, “I felt like exploring and your room was more appealing than Stiles’. Trust me, you do not want to go into the bedroom of a teenage boy when you have the kind of nose I do.”

Noah wrinkled his nose, “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

Peter took a few steps forward, “No response needed.”

“You should go back downstairs,” Noah cleared his throat, “Isaac was wondering where you went.”

Peter hummed, “He seemed pretty enraptured last time I saw him.”

Peter edged around Noah to make his way to the door. Noah stopped him just as Peter turned the doorknob.

“It’s nice what you’ve done for that kid.” Noah said, “He deserves to have someone looking out for him.”

Peter looked over his shoulder, “He deserved more than that. Which is why I killed his father and bribed several shady court officials to push through and expedite his emancipation request.”

Noah’s face went pale, and Peter grinned. He just couldn’t resist.

Noah shook his head a few seconds later, scrubbing a hand over his face, “I did not hear a single word of that.”

“Hear what?” Peter asked, “Noah, is your hearing going in your old age? I know several competent doctors who would gladly fit you into their busy schedule if I gave them a call.”

“Get out.” Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, “Downstairs. Go.”

Peter pressed two fingers to his temple and flicked them at Noah in a salute goodbye.

Noah Stilinski was always an easy one to rile up, Peter was glad that at least something hadn’t changed since his life fell apart.

 

X

 

Laura looked up just in time to see Peter coming down the stairs with a smug look on his face. Laura had known Peter long enough to know what a smile like that meant before the fire, she almost didn’t want to know what it meant after the fire. The Sheriff came down the stairs a few minutes later, looking flustered and wearing a different shirt than Laura had last seen him in. She blinked at the empty staircase for several long seconds before she held up her hands and walked slowly to the kitchen.

“Not my business, not my business, not my business.” Laura whispered to herself calmly, like it was a mantra she was going to live the rest of her life by.

Laura could probably comfortably live the rest of her life without knowing what happened upstairs.

A series of knocks at the front door drew Laura’s attention away from the idea. She honestly counted it as a blessing. Derek stuck his head around the corner, eyeing the front door with a confused look.

“Are we…expecting anyone else?” Derek cocked his head to the side.

Laura mentally tallied everyone in the backyard, frowning when she realized everyone was accounted for. Laura edged her way to the door, slightly worried there could be a threat behind it, but she settled instantly when she recognized the heartbeat and the scent on the other side of the door.

Laura opened the door, hand on her hip, “Jordan.”

Jordan blinked a few times, but his face turned into a smile, “Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Barbecue,” Laura looked over her shoulder, “want to join us?”

“I wish, it smells amazing.” Jordan frowned, holding up a stack of folders, “I’m just dropping by some case files the Sheriff asked for.”

As if summoned, the Sheriff appeared behind her, taking the files from Jordan, “Sorry to make you come all the way over here, but I appreciate it.”

Jordan shrugged, “No problem, I was just catching up on some paperwork so it’s not that big of a deal. It’s been a slow day.”

“Don’t say that.” The Sheriff said, “Now something terrible is going to happen.”

Laura laughed, “I believe it’s your day off, so it would be Jordan’s problem.”

“Jordan is still technically a rookie,” The Sheriff pointed out, “I can’t let him take care of everything.”

Laura hummed, “I don’t know, Jordan has some pretty capable hands.”

Jordan’s face instantly went red, and the Sheriff groaned.

“I’m backing away slowly.” The Sheriff said, sighing.

The tips of Jordan’s ears were still pink, “Laura! That’s my boss!”

“I know,” Laura laughed, leaning in for a kiss, “you coming over tonight?”

Jordan kissed her then rocked back on his heels, “I get off at ten?”

Laura grinned, showing some teeth, “Which means I get of-”

Jordan’s eyes went wide, “Do not finish that!”

“You’re so easy to rile up, Parrish.”

“You’re a menace, Hale.”

Laura winked, “I’ll see you tonight.”

Laura closed the door and turned to find Lydia smirking at her. Laura rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from the door, heading into the kitchen.

“Why do I do most of my flirting in doorways?” Laura asked.

Lydia hummed, “Maybe it’s symbolic because you’re not ready to truly let someone inside.”

Laura stopped walking, watching as Lydia continued on. Lydia stopped a moment later and looked over her shoulder.

“What?” Lydia asked, “You asked.”

Laura stared at her for a moment, “Remind me to never ask you anything again, good lord.”

The Sheriff was sitting at the kitchen table, two of the folders that Jordan dropped off were opened. Laura looked over his shoulder, scanning the pages but failing to see anything that would require a werewolf’s second opinion.

“These are what I wanted you to look at for me,” he pointed to the two pages, “something just doesn’t sit right with me.”

Laura looked at them again, “Missing persons cases?”

The Sheriff shrugged, “Yes and no. Both of these happened last week, one family called frantic saying their son was missing. They said they went to bed and he was there, and then when they woke up he was gone. At first glance it doesn’t look like foul play, no forced entry, and even though we’re technically not supposed to get involved until a certain point passes I sent a few deputies out to look around just because this is Beacon Hills and who knows what can happen anymore.”

Laura nodded, “And?”

“Their son showed back up at the house almost exactly 24 hours after they’d reported him missing.” The Sheriff said, “But he’s…they say he’s not their son.”

That got everyone’s attention. The rest of the pack crowded around the table, some craning their necks so they could see the files.

“We went to school with both of them,” Stiles said, pointing to the paper, “they were seniors last year.”

“How is he not their son?” Derek asked.

“He’s…vacant. He’s just blank. They say he walks around, doesn’t talk to anyone, barely eats, sleeps for hours upon hours. Two days after this one came home, another one disappeared and returned 24 hours later. So now I have two kids in town who mysteriously disappeared for an entire day, came back without saying anything, and are walking around like zombies.”

“Oh god,” Scott gasped, “tell me it’s not zombies again. I hated the zombies.”

“Revenants,” Peter sighed, “for the last time, they were _revenants_.”

Laura ignored both of them, “Have they taken them to the doctor?”

The Sheriff shook his head, “Neither of them will leave the house.”

Laura looked up at Peter, “Have you ever heard of anything like this?”

Peter nodded, “I’ve heard of several things like this, but I’d need to examine the bodies of the boys to be sure.”

“Bodies?” The Sheriff shook his head, “Peter, they’re still alive.”

Isaac was looking at the files with wide eyes, just as Laura was about to ask if he was OK, someone knocked on the door.

Stiles walked over to the door, opened it, and Laura immediately heard Jordan’s voice, the radio on his shoulder was chirping too.

“Jordan?” Laura asked when he rounded the corner, his heart was beating a little faster than normal, “What’s wrong?”

Jordan looked at them, confusion washing over his face, and he was probably wondering why they were all huddled around the confidential police files that he’d just dropped off. Laura kicked herself internally, trying to figure out a way to explain this later.

The Sheriff stood, pushing the folders closed, “Parrish? What’s wrong, son?”

Jordan let out a breath, “I was on the way back to the station when I got the call, I figured I’d turn back around and tell you in person.”

“What call?” The Sheriff asked.

“Those files you had me bring over?” Jordan pointed to the stack on the table, “The first kid that went missing, the Hankins boy.”

“What happened?” The Sheriff asked.

Jordan sucked in a deep breath, “He’s dead, his parents just called it in. They went into his room and found him in bed, eyes open, not breathing.”

Laura felt the air in the room change, could smell the sense of dread coming off every member in the pack. She looked over her shoulder at Peter.

Peter simply shrugged, “I told you. These things always end with a body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 27,000 words later and we finally have a plot lol
> 
> i think this chapter has a little something for everybody, look forward to the comments!


	4. Ongoing Investigation

 

Chapter Four

Ongoing Investigation

 

“Your form is still sloppy!”

Gerard sat in the corner of the basement, his hands folded over the top of his cane. He lifted it slightly, only to bring it back down onto the ground with a loud crack. It reminded Allison of some ballet movies she’d watched with the angry Soviet Russian teacher who used her cane to get dancers into position. Gerard wouldn’t have been too out of place in Soviet Russia.

“You’re leaving yourself open!” Gerard called out, “Your ribs are completely exposed, all it would take is a pathetic Omega to swoop in and rip your lungs out with its dirty claws!”

Allison adjusted her position, folding her elbows in closer to her ribs to cover perceived chinks in her armor. Her knuckles were wrapped, _properly_ this time, and she circled around the wooden pole as she tried to decide where to strike it. There were already several indents in the soft wood from where her fists had hit it, a few more strikes would probably splinter the thing in half.

Very few good things had come from her time with Gerard so far, but the extra muscle mass she was building would have its benefits in the future.

She struck out with her fists in a crossing combo. Her left fist hit first, a twinge of pain lanced through her arm when her hand hit the wood, but it was dulled by the satisfying crack she felt on the surface below her fists. She added more power into her right punch, leaning forward with most of her momentum and smiling when she visibly saw the wood splinter. She hit it again, two more quick, efficient strikes with her right fist in rapid succession. The wood was just barely hanging on now, Allison spun and kicked it in the center of its mass and sent it toppling to the floor.

The empty, hollow sound echoed through the basement. Gerard looked at the useless piece of wood, at Allison, and then back again. He stood and walked over to her, stopping just outside of arms reach.

“Your father broke that in three less strikes than you when he was your age.”

“My father is also a male.” Allison pointed out, “He was already working at an advantage.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes, “Kate broke it in one less hit than your father, excuses are for the weak. Do not try to rationalize your shortcomings, it will only get you killed. That sorry excuse for a group of hunters Kate asked to borrow for help, all of them are dead. They died right here, right under the nose of your father, your mother, and yourself.”

Allison barely concealed a flinch. It was times like these that Allison feared he knew everything, that Gerard knew she killed Kate, that she killed a few of those hunters that disappeared. But then Gerard would smile at her, like she was the solution to all his problems, and those fears would melt away.

Gerard wouldn’t put all this effort into training her just to kill her, would he?

Allison kept an eye on his hands at all times, determined to never be taken by surprise by another family member again.

“Train harder, something big has come to town.” Gerard said, “I can feel it out there.”

Allison blinked, they’d only just killed the Wendigo, there was no way something else could have come into town that quickly. She grabbed her water bottle from the table and screwed the cap off, holding it in her hand as she looked at Gerard.

“How do you know?” Allison asked, “I haven’t noticed anything odd happening except for the Wendigo.”

Gerard smirked, “I have my sources in town, people who I trust to alert me if something stranger than usual rolls across their desk.”

“Strange?” Allison chugged from her water bottle, “How strange?”

“It’s how they all start: missing children.” Gerard shrugged, “A kid goes missing, turns up a day later, and then dies a few days after that. The same thing happens again within days of each other. Something’s here, Allison, and we’re going to find it.”

“Who’s your source?” Allison asked, leaning against the metal table and letting the cold steel ground her, “How do you know you can trust them?”

Gerard waved a hand at her dismissively, “That’s not for you to worry about.”

“It is, actually.” Allison stood up straight, “I’m the future matriarch of this family, I think I should know about _sources_ we have in town. I’ve never once heard my parents mention any kind of a source.”

“That’s because it’s my source, not theirs.” Gerard said, his eyes growing cold, “And you’ll only become the matriarch if you survive long enough to get to your 18th birthday, which I’m here to make sure happens.”

Gerard looks unwavering, his face completely impassive. Allison swallowed, took a deep breath, and nodded.

None of this was worth it, Allison thought, as she forced down the disgust at Gerard’s righteous smile.

 

X

 

Laura pulled on an oversized t-shirt before using her towel to wipe the gathered steam on the bathroom mirror. She ran a brush through her tangled hair and opened the door, following the wafting steam into her bedroom. Jordan was already in bed, relaxing with his arms behind his head. Laura passed an appreciative eye over the way his biceps flexed, and then tossed her wet towel at him.

“Hey!” Jordan laughed.

Laura smirked at him, “Do I need to report you for breaking and entering?”

Laura heard him come in while she was in the shower, but she didn’t know how he got in the front door.

“Derek let me in as he was leaving,” Jordan said, “I wanted to surprise you.”

Laura figured as much, “If you wanted to surprise me you would have been naked when I walked out.”

Jordan pursed his lips and then smiled, “Gotta give you something to work up to.”

Laura bit back about fifteen separate dirty jokes that ran through her mind, which really meant that she should stop hanging out with teenagers all the time. She walked over to Jordan, bending down and giving him a quick peck on the lips before tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Tell me you brought food?” Laura asked.

Jordan laughed, pushing himself up from the bed, “I swear you only want me for my body and the food I bring.”

“It’s completely natural for a woman to be attracted to a man who brings her things, it’s primal.” Laura cocked her head to the side, “That’s a yes, right?”

“Yes,” Jordan sighed, rolling his eyes, “there’s takeout from Jade’s.”

“Chinese, score.” Laura jumped up from the bed and moved towards the bedroom door.

Chinese takeout from Beacon Hills was a far cry from Chinese takeout in New York City, but Laura would take whatever she could get. Jordan followed behind her until they made it to the kitchen. He slinked his way around her with a light touch to her side, and began opening cabinets to pull out plates while Laura unloaded the bags of food. She watched Jordan move easily around the kitchen, he knew where everything was and which plates Laura liked best, and she wondered how she let herself get so comfortable with someone who she’d intended to be nothing more than a booty call.

Laura had felt more like a predator than she had in a long time the first night she’d seen Jordan somewhere that didn’t involve her criminal history or being in the middle of an actual criminal act. He’d been across the room in the bar that Laura went to for a single reason, and that reason hadn’t been to get drunk. Derek was at Stiles’ house that night, and Laura figured she deserved a night of fun after the hell that everyone had been through.

Laura flirted, Jordan stammered, bought her a drink that did absolutely nothing for her, and then Laura went in for the kill.

No one slept that first night.

And now, three months later, Jordan was moving easily around her kitchen. Laura pushed the thought out of her mind and instead focused on the smell wafting from the folded paper cartons and the way Jordan’s ass looked in his tight jeans.

“Fair warning,” Jordan said, placing a bottle of wine on the table next to the plates he’d gotten, “Derek took the pot stickers as payment for letting me in the house.”

Laura groaned, the pot stickers were the best part, “Asshole.”

“He just held out his hand and said, ‘pot stickers’,” Jordan laughed, “I don’t even know how he knew I had them.”

“He could smell them,” Laura rolled her eyes, “that boy has an uncanny nose for Chinese food.”

“The Hale family and their sense of smell will never not terrify me.” Jordan shuddered.

Laura couldn’t resist playing with him, she pushed Jordan’s head back and leaned in close, lightly dragging her nose across the pulse point in his neck. She grinned when his pulse jumped, and just barely resisted biting down on the pale skin that was exposed.

“You don’t smell scared to me.” Laura whispered, her voice rough.

“Wow,” Jordan cleared his throat, “I thought you wanted to eat.”

Laura pulled away from Jordan and tipped her head back, cackling, “I do, I just can’t resist playing with my food.”

Jordan blinked at her a few times, “You’re evil.”

Laura licked her lips, picking up a pair of chopsticks and digging into her sweet and sour chicken, “We’ve already established that.”

Jordan poured two glasses of wine, Laura took hers with a smile and drank half of it before diving back into the food. Jordan looked at her in that fond way he did sometimes, and Laura smiled at him with half an eggroll in her mouth.

“Gross.”

Laura shrugged.

They finished off the food relatively quickly. Laura hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she was gifted a trove of food, she looked at Jordan apologetically as she gathered up their dishes and took them to the sink. Jordan cleaned while she loaded the dishwasher, and they eventually made their way over to the couch with the bottle of wine in tow. The wine did nothing to get Laura drunk, but she still liked the taste and the way Jordan’s cheeks got a little more flushed with each glass.

Laura rested her feet in Jordan’s lap as she flicked through the television, Jordan was absentmindedly tapping her leg when he spoke.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Laura looked from the TV to Jordan, he didn’t look like he was springing anything major on her, but she couldn’t deny the dread those words filled her with. It was the same phrase her mom used when they were younger, when she knew that she or one of her siblings had done something wrong but wanted to give them one final chance to confess before she pulled the Alpha card.

“Sure.” Laura sat the remote on the edge of the couch and pulled her feet away from Jordan, “What’s up?”

Jordan chewed on his bottom lip, “It’s just…something I’ve been wondering all day. It might be none of my business, but…”

“Jordan?” Laura prompted, failing to see where any of this was going.

“Earlier today, when I came back to the Sheriff’s house, why was he showing you the case files?” Jordan ran a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen the Sheriff do something like that. It’s not exactly…policy and he’s the biggest stickler for doing things by the book.”

Laura gazed at him for a few seconds. She was really hoping Jordan hadn’t noticed, or at least would have forgotten about seeing them all huddled around open case files at the Sheriff’s dining room table. Apparently the shock of a dead teenager wasn’t enough to make Jordan forget what he’d seen, or maybe it made him remember it specifically. Either way, Laura wasn’t prepared.

Jordan didn’t seem mad, or hostile in any way, just curious in a way that good cops normally were. She thought about telling Jordan the truth, and while it would make things easier in the short run, things would become more complicated overall. Part of Laura didn’t want Jordan to know, wanted him to be her home away from werewolves, a place she could go to and not have to think about claws, magic, or death.

“I’m…consulting for him,” Laura said, letting a bit of truth seep into the lie, “I don’t know, he just asks my opinion on things sometimes.”

In all honesty, it was something that the Sheriff had brought up. It was right after Kate’s funeral, he’d told her that she would make a great cop, but he’s said it in such a passing manner that Laura thought it was a joke. The Sheriff mentioned it several times after the fact though, and after the third time Laura realized how serious he was.

“Consulting?” Jordan raised an eyebrow, “Don’t take this the wrong way…but why would he ask your opinion? You’re not exactly a professional.”

Laura sat up, her back against the arm of the couch, “We spend a lot of time together, why wouldn’t he want my opinion?”

Jordan’s heart stuttered, “Hey, I’m sorry, let’s just drop it.”

“No, you wanted to know.” Laura said, “I have a degree in Criminology from NYU, he asked me to look at it and see if I thought it was just some kids being stupid or if it looked like something more than that.”

“You went to college?” Jordan looked stunned, “For criminology?”

Laura felt a wave of anger wash over her, “Yes, Jordan. In between moving across the country after my entire family died, and trying to keep my little brother alive, I managed to complete college and get a degree that I’ve done absolutely nothing with.”

“Laura, I didn’t mean it like that.” Jordan frowned, “You just…you never told me.”

Laura crossed her arms over her chest, “You never asked.”

“Because every time I try to ask you anything about your life before you came back to Beacon Hills you avoid the question and change the subject.” Jordan sighed, “I figured you didn’t like talking about it, so I stopped asking you.”

The A/C kicked on in the apartment, blowing a breeze of regret from Jordan right into Laura’s face. There was hurt, and a small undercurrent of anger there too. God, Laura felt like a fucking asshole. She’d been so caught up in trying to make a lie seem sensible, and really what right did she have to get so upset for when Jordan was telling the truth. Laura didn’t talk about things, it wasn’t Jordan’s fault that she couldn’t be honest, that she didn’t want to tell him the entire truth.

“I’m sor-” Laura was cut off by Jordan’s phone ringing.

“Hello?” Jordan answered, and his face immediately went pinched, “Shit.”

Laura turned her head away, she didn’t want to listen in on the phone call. She already felt like a hypocrite for losing her cool at Jordan like she did, she didn’t want to dig that hole any deeper for herself.

“I have to go.” Jordan stood up from the couch, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Everything OK?” Laura asked, following him to the front door.

“Yeah,” Jordan nodded, “It’s just…nothing. It’s nothing, I’ll call you later.”

Jordan opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, heading straight for the elevator. Laura leaned against the doorway and watched him until the elevator doors closed, she let out a sigh as her head thumped against the wall.

She was always standing in a damn doorway.

 

X

 

“Ooh, pot stickers.”

Stiles plucked the packet from Derek’s hand as soon as he opened the door. Derek sighed, watching Stiles disappear around the corner and into the kitchen. Derek let himself into the house, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him. He locked it before he made his way to the kitchen.

“At least save me a few.” Derek shook his head when he found each of Stiles’ hands occupied by food.

“Good luck with that.” The Sheriff huffed.

Derek turned to see the Sheriff with both case files in his hand, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He looked tired, like the entire day’s worth of sleep he’d gotten previously hadn’t done a thing for him.

Stiles looked up, blinked innocently, and handed Derek a single pot sticker. Derek took the offered food and glared at him with as much heat as he could muster, which was disappointingly little, and ate it in one bite.

Stiles seemed unfazed, he just handed Derek a spiral bound notebook and walked to the sink to wash his hands. Derek opened it and read the first page, it was a collection of notes Stiles had made on the missing persons case. He’d already filled up the front and back of two pages, and Derek had only been gone for a few hours.

“Fairies?” Derek read one of the underlined words, “Really?”

“There’s lore that backs it up…” Stiles trailed off, “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Derek arched an eyebrow.

The Sheriff sighed, “Thank god, he can talk your ear off about this now. I’ve learned more than I’ve ever wanted to know about fairies in the last hour and a half.”

“I needed someone to bounce my ideas off,” Stiles shrugged, “Anyway, the fae, historically, are all down with the kidnapping. They snatch babies away from new mothers and replace them with weird versions of their actual child.”

“They take newborns, Stiles.” Derek pointed out, “The two kids who disappeared were almost nineteen.”

“Have you ever met a fairy?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head.

“Then how do you know that they don’t take teenagers? All I’ve got to go on are Mariska’s things and old storybooks.”

Derek huffed and pulled out the chair closest to the one Stiles had just sat in, “Fine, we’ll keep fairies as a possibility.”

“Aren’t fairies supposed to be nice?” The Sheriff asked, “They look so nice in pictures.”

Stiles chewed on his lip, “Well, if these books are anything to go by, fairies seem like pretty big assholes.”

“Stiles!” Derek hissed, “What if they take you next?”

The Sheriff snorted, “They’d give him back.”

“Mom used to say she never had to worry about me getting kidnapped,” Stiles said with a smile, “She said they’d bring me back before they even made it out of the parking lot. Something about how I’d talk their ears off about how broccoli is farmed and they wouldn’t think the risk is worth the potential reward.”

Derek moved his chair closer, resting a protective hand on Stiles’ leg, “No one is taking you, fairy or otherwise.”

Stiles flushed, reaching down to grab Derek’s hand and softly squeeze it before pulling away. The Sheriff was reading over Stiles’ list, not paying them any attention. He sat the notebook down and rubbed his temples.

“I just don’t see what’s missing here.” The Sheriff said, “It reads like a typical kidnapping on paper, but there’s something about it that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“You have good instincts, better than most people. Trust them.” Derek said, “They told you something isn’t normal, so we’ll keep digging until we figure out what we’re looking for.”

“Yeah, we’ve just got to break it down, look at the facts…” Stiles trailed off as he scanned over the pages again, “Wait.”

“What?” Derek and the Sheriff asked in unison.

“The first kid that went missing, Bobby,” Stiles pointed to the file, “He disappeared the night before the earthquake, right?”

Derek looked over Stiles’ shoulder, his eyes scanning the pages to read the date.

The Sheriff nodded, “We think so. They reported him missing the morning before the quake, do you think they’re connected?”

Stiles chewed on the end of his pen before scribbling down a note, “I don’t think the earthquake is connected to Bobby per say, but he, or whatever was claiming to be him, showed up the evening after the earthquake.”

“What’re you getting at?” Derek asked, Stiles’ mind was making a lot of leaps that Derek couldn’t follow.

“Lydia’s feeling after the earthquake!” Stiles said, pointing at Derek’s chest, “We all just assumed it was connected to the earthquake somehow, but what if it was about this? Bobby was missing for about twelve hours by the time the quake hit, which meant twelve hours after that, something that looked like him went back to his house. What if Lydia was sensing what was happening to Bobby, or at least whatever _took_ Bobby.”

Derek thought about it for a minute. He didn’t know the scope of Lydia’s abilities, and he didn’t think anyone truly did, Lydia herself included. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say she could have been feeling the creature that took the boy, but the same could be said for her not feeling it.

“Lydia can do that?” The Sheriff asked, “I thought she just…screamed really loud.”

Stiles laughed, “She’s a banshee, right? So she can sense death, or impending doom at least. The same thing happened with Kate, she felt something and was given some vague ass idea of what it was, but she didn’t know what was happening or how to act on it. What if that’s what’s happening now? She said she heard wings, like the sound of something flying over her house.”

“So we’re looking for something with wings?” The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, “I miss when all I had to deal with was drugs and delinquent teenagers.”

“Hey,” Stiles smiled, “at least the delinquent teenagers on drugs don’t have wings. That we know of. That probably wasn’t as comforting as it sounded in my head.”

“Stiles,” Derek tapped him on the shoulder, “focus.”

Stiles blinked, “Right. Well, I think our best bet is to talk to Lydia, see if she can make sense of anything now that we have a little more information. Also, we should start narrowing down things with wings that kidnap people.”

Derek grabbed the first book he saw and flipped it open to the glossary, his finger skimming through the section of winged supernatural creatures. There were a lot of them. Like, a lot a lot.

“We’ll divide this up amongst the pack,” Derek said, “we’ll bring the books to the apartment and have a meeting, we’ll make better time if we all do it.”

Stiles sighed, “Erica’s just going to get distracted by everything but what we’re looking for.”

Derek shook his head, “Then make a list of things that you think are most likely and we’ll research those ones first.”

Stiles took the book from Derek and began jotting down the names of several supernatural creatures that just sounded terrifying. Derek couldn’t believe it, but he was actually hoping it was just fairies. He could probably fight fairies easier than a harpy.

“Is the family requesting an autopsy?” Derek asked the Sheriff.

“They’re still deciding. The doctor said it looked like a natural heart attack, and the way they were talking made it seem like they didn’t want to go through anymore pain. I think they just want to have a funeral for their son.”

“Damn.” Derek said, “It might help more if we knew what the real cause of death was. I highly doubt it was a heart attack.”

The Sheriff stood from the table, “I’ll ask around tomorrow and see if they’ve changed their mind. In the meantime, I’m beat. I’m heading to bed, don’t stay up too long…researching.”

Stiles cringed, “I’ll try.”

The Sheriff shook his head, “Derek, are you staying the night?”

It was Derek’s turn to cringe now, “If you don’t mind?”

“I’ll make extra coffee in the morning.” The Sheriff laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, “Goodnight, boys.”

“Night, dad.”

“Goodnight, Sheriff.”

 

X

 

Isaac sat on the edge of the bed in the room of Peter’s apartment.

No.

Isaac sat on the edge of _his_ bed, in _his_ room, in _his_ apartment. Well, the apartment technically belonged to Peter, but Peter had told him a million times that Isaac was welcomed to call it his, or their, apartment. It was all so surreal to Isaac, he had to take a few minutes every morning just to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming. His arm was purple with small bruises, but this time they came from Isaac pinching himself every morning and not from his dad’s hands.

His dad had been dead for five months today. Five months. It was almost half a year. Five months since Peter intervened when no one else would, four and a half months since he was legally emancipated, four and a half months since he showed up on Peter’s doorstep with nothing but a backpack and a duffle bag filled with all the clothing he owned.

He didn’t know what to do for this anniversary, or if he should even call it an anniversary. Peter had to know what day it was, he was too smart to forget something like that.

Those clothes now occupied a single drawer in the chest that was pushed flush against the wall. The chest weighed more than Isaac did soaking wet, and it only had five shirts, four pairs of shorts, a pair of jeans, some socks filled with holes, and a dozen pairs of boxers.

Isaac could never figure out how he ended up with more underwear than anything else, but he’d always learned to stop trying to figure things out and count small blessings wherever he found them.

His two pairs of shoes sat in a neat line next to the door. The ancient sneakers looked even worse compared to the relatively good quality of the secondhand lacrosse cleats he’d managed to find at the thrift store in town. He was pretty sure they were Jackson’s old shoes.

The worst part was that they weren’t poor. Isaac’s dad had money to buy things for him, maybe not fancy cars and designer bullshit like Jackson’s did, but there was more than enough money for Isaac to get a few new outfits, a new pair of shoes.

He just…didn’t.

Isaac didn’t know what his dad did with the money, aside from what obviously went to his alcohol budget.

He knew there was a settlement, a payday after Cam had died, and there was the life insurance from his mom, but none of the money touched Isaac.

That was the worst part, Isaac thought. It wasn’t the beating, or the pain, or the terrible words, or even the freezer. It was that Cam was dead, and he couldn’t even help Isaac with what was left after he was gone. Cam would have hated that, would have hated their dad even more for taking that away from Isaac.

Isaac wasn’t sure if he believed in heaven or hell until recently. The inclusion of werewolves into his life had rearranged a lot of what he’d previously thought was possible. He was sure whatever was waiting in the afterlife, his dad and Cam were not in the same place.

He sighed and crawled his way back to the top of the bed, resting against the headboard and pulling his legs up to his chest. He circled his arms around his legs and looked out at the room in front of him. It was bigger than Isaac’s old room. His sheets were nicer than any he’d ever felt before, pillows softer, there was a desk in the corner of the room that Peter had not so subtly mentioned would be a comfortable size for a brand-new laptop.

Peter made a lot of not so subtle hints about things. He’d casually mentioned going to the mall to find himself something new to wear, he mentioned articles he’d read about new electronics that had been released, read reviews of overpriced laptop outlets. He hinted, but he never came home with anything.

Peter never did anything without Isaac first asking. It was what Isaac liked most about Peter, it was what made Isaac trust him enough to move in with the werewolf who’d murdered his father in cold blood. He didn’t know why though. He’d half expected to wake up one morning to a mountain of presents, bags of clothes and laptops that cost more than half of what he could hope to save working one of his shitty summer jobs. Isaac had been mentally preparing himself how to act when it happened. Should he fake surprise and happiness, or should he insist that Peter return it all immediately?

But nothing ever came.

Peter would pointedly look at him as he carried a small laundry basket to the washing machine for a third time in a week, but he never said anything else.

It made Isaac dizzy with control he’d so desperately wanted for the last sixteen years of his life. Isaac never had control over anything, but Peter gave him control over everything.

Isaac didn’t have to eat with Peter if he didn’t want to, didn’t have to talk to him, watch TV, answer any questions, nothing. Peter was a solid presence, he was always there if Isaac needed him, but he wasn’t suffocating. And yet for all the violence that Isaac could sense lurking under Peter’s exterior, he never once felt scared of him.

He was always scared of his father, even when the man was asleep he was terrifying. But Peter? Peter was a monster out of a horror movie, and Isaac knew Peter would never lay a finger on him. His father was the true monster, and Peter was just a guy who had sharp teeth and claws.

Isaac had never lived with someone like that, he’d never dreamed it could be a possibility.  

Isaac cast one last look at the dresser and pushed himself off the bed. He could hear Peter typing on his laptop in the kitchen, so he slowly made his way towards him.

 Peter looked up the second Isaac stepped out of the hallway, “Hello.”

“Hey,” Isaac said, “what’re you doing?”

Isaac never would have dreamed of asking his father a question like that, but Peter seemed to relish in Isaac’s curiosity. Maybe it was because he’d been in a coma for almost six years and he just secretly liked talking to people now that he could.

“Just reading up on our suspicious death,” Peter turned back to the computer, “his obituary is already in the paper. They’re calling it a heart attack and the family is asking for privacy during this terrible time. I find it laughable that the newspaper is writing that, they live for these kinds of stories. It moves people, makes them money. I’m sure they sold like crazy after the fire.”

“I don’t remember.” Isaac said honestly.

Peter cracked half a smile, “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Isaac’s mouth went dry at the thought of asking the next question, but he had to do it, he’d been avoiding it for months but for some reason now was the time he needed to know, “What did they say about my dad?”

“In the paper?” Peter asked.

“They said _that man,”_ Peter never referred to Isaac’s father as anything other than that, “had an accident while he was drinking. They also reported that police were looking into allegations of child abuse, but I stopped following it after that.”

Isaac let out a shaky breath. He knew all that, he could tell by the way people looked at him after his dad died. He’d gone from being the kid that someone might have maybe thought something bad was happening to at home, to actually being the kid that was getting the shit beat out of him by his father.

Isaac didn’t like the looks people gave him when they knew.

“I almost searched for articles about the fire this morning,” Peter admitted, “but I stopped myself before I could.”

“Good,” Isaac said, “That’s good. Right?”

Peter shrugged, “I suppose.”

Isaac walked closer, looking over Peter’s shoulder at the pages he had spread across the sturdy dining table. A few jumped out at him, like the copies of the Sheriff’s case files that Isaac had no idea how Peter got. There was another folder that drew Isaac’s eye, it was old and worn, and written across the front of it in an elegant script were the words **_Desert Wolf_**.

“Desert Wolf?” Isaac read out loud, “What’s that?”

Peter looked down at the folder for a minute before looking back at Isaac, “It’s nothing. Just a bit of an…urban legend that my wife was looking into before the fire. My curiosity got the better of me when I found it in a box of things I brought to Stiles, so I was seeing if there were any new developments while I was away.”

“Oh,” Isaac said, “anything interesting?”

Peter frowned before pushing the folder away, “No, it seems the wolf has all but disappeared. Oh well, it’s probably better for everyone that way.”

Isaac nodded and turned on his heel to walk back towards his room. He made it halfway down the hallway before he stopped and turned around, walking back towards the kitchen and lingering in the mouth of the hallway.

“Hey, Peter?” Isaac asked.

“Yes?” Peter looked over his shoulder.

“Uh…” Isaac trailed off, “Um, Stiles, Scott, and Erica invited me to train with them for lacrosse before the season starts.”

Peter nodded, “Good, I’m glad. Are you going to take them up on the invitation?”

“Yeah, I think.” Isaac hesitated again, “I was wondering if…if maybe we could go to the mall? I don’t have a lot of clothes I can train in…”

Peter stared at him for a second before a genuine smile stretched across his face, “Of course. Did you want to go now?”

Isaac nodded, he wanted to get out of the apartment before he lost the nerve, “If you’re not busy.”

Peter stood up from the table, “Let me find my keys.”

Peter scooped up his keys a few seconds later, slid his wallet in his back pocket, and Isaac followed him out the front door of the apartment.

One step at a time, Isaac thought.

 

X

 

Allison pulled her hair out of her face as she leaned against the side of the house. She bent over, resting her palms on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. She hadn’t intended to go on a six mile run through the neighborhood, but every time she ran past the front gate of the house she’d talked herself into adding another lap onto her route. She downed half her bottle of water and opened the front door as quietly as she could, not wanting to alert Gerard to her presence if he was around.

She could hear Gerard on the phone in the kitchen, she took off her shoes so she wouldn’t make any noise on the tile floor as she walked. Gerard’s back was to her, he was facing out the sliding glass door with a small black flip phone pressed against his ear.

“They’re moving ahead with the burial of the body?” Gerard said to the person on the other end of the phone.

The body? This must be what Gerard had been talking about earlier, the kid who died because of whatever had come to Beacon Hills.

“Is the body still in the morgue?” Gerard paused, “When are they moving it to the funeral home?”

Allison’s car keys were on the kitchen island. She ducked down into a crouch and held her breath as she crept silently across the floor. She pushed herself as close to the island as she could before she laid her palm flat over the keys and pulled them towards the edge of the island. She raised her other hand, palm facing upwards, and silently clapped them together once the keys slipped from the island.

The keys made the slightest sound, just a tiny clink of metal on metal, Allison held her breath and waited for Gerard to turn around.

“I need to see the body for myself.” Gerard said, oblivious to Allison’s presence, “No, it would be easier to get to it at the funeral home. If I can’t find a way in, there’s always a price for people to look the other way.”

Gerard nodded along to whatever the person on the other end of the phone was saying. Allison slowly backed out of the kitchen, making her way back to the front door of the house in just a few seconds. She could still hear Gerard’s voice from the kitchen.

“Yes, deputy, I’m aware you have your price too.” Gerard laughed, “I’ll make sure you’re rewarded for your arduous work and dedication.”

Deputy? That…it couldn’t mean that Gerard had someone inside the Sheriff’s Department. Allison heard the snap of the flip phone shutting, she closed the front door behind her and quickly made her way to the car. She started it and drove out of the neighborhood, turning down the road that would lead her out of the Beacon Hills city limits. She grabbed her cell and turned it off, pulling the SIM card out and sitting it in one of the cup holders.

Maybe she was being too careful, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She couldn’t take any chances if Gerard had someone inside law enforcement, someone who was close enough to the Sheriff to get information out of him. She couldn’t let Gerard get to the body first, there was no telling what he would find or try to hide.

Twenty-five minutes outside of Beacon Hills was a park. It wasn’t anything exciting, just a few trees and an old rotten wooden jungle gym that should have been torn down ages ago. She’d checked her rearview mirrors as she drove, keeping an eye out for any suspicious cars following her, and she circled around the block four times before she pulled into the parking lot.

The park was empty, like it always was, which meant there was no one around to see Allison scale the tallest tree in it. She hoisted herself into the tree, moving quickly up the blunt branches until she was nearly at the top. There, right where she left it, was a black plastic flip phone of her own in a waterproof bag. She unzipped the bag, pulled the phone out, and powered it on.

There was one number programed into the contact list, she typed out a quick text.

 

**To ???: SOS. Creamed Spinach.**

Allison huffed out a laugh before she dropped down from the tree and walked to the row of bathrooms on the opposite side of the park. She entered one of the stalls, snapped the burner phone in half, and flushed it down the toilet after crushing the SIM card with the heel of her shoe.

Now all she had to do was wait.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot how much fun i had with stiles' section until i reread it lol isaac's was also really fun to write, i like getting inside his head and examining his relationship with peter
> 
> hope you enjoy! i look forward to the comments!


	5. Corpse Party

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

Corpse Party

 

Derek’s SUV rumbled down a dirt road about half an hour outside of Beacon Hills. It handled the rough terrain better than Stiles’ Jeep would have, and the Camaro would have been toast after the pothole that Derek had somehow been unable to navigate around. Stiles liked the SUV, liked that it still had the same new car smell it did when he went with Derek to pick it out, liked that the entire pack could fit inside it comfortably. He especially liked the way Derek’s eyebrows pinched together when he called it the Werewolf-mobile, not to mention how red his face got whenever someone called him a soccer mom.

It was probably part of the reason that Derek hardly ever drove it and just ran everywhere like the crazy person he was. That fact also made it the perfect vehicle to take for this trip.

The sky was an amber red color by the time they made it to the small park, the sun slowly sinking to give way to the moon. The park was empty, there was no sign of anyone else around for as far as Stiles could see. He looked through the tinted windows of the SUV and frowned, there wasn’t even anyone in the small parking lot.

“Are we in the right place?” Laura turned around, looking at him from the passenger’s seat.

Stiles nodded, pulling out his phone and showing it to her, “She said creamed spinach. This should be the right place.”

“Creamed spinach,” Derek huffed, “you came up with the weirdest code words.”

Stiles leaned through the space in the seats, resting his elbow on the center console as he glared at Derek, “My code words are genius, dude. Do you regularly talk about cream spinach? Does anyone regularly talk about cream spinach? No. That makes it the perfect code word for an emergency meet, because I highly doubt creepy grandpa Gerard would just text cream spinach if he wanted to get us all together to kill us.”

Derek blinked at him a few times before raising both hands in surrender, “Sorry.”

Laura laughed, “You’re very passionate about your code words.”

“I didn’t have much time to come up with them, OK?” Stiles slumped back in his seat, “Allison barely gave us a 24 hour heads up when she said she wanted to go all undercover agent, I had to work fast to produce a whole glossary of coded messages. I just happened to be watching the Food Network at the time…”

Laura smiled, patting him on the knee, “Well, I think they’re brilliant. Let’s just be happy her text didn’t say white truffle macaroni and cheese.”

Stiles shuddered at the thought, that one wouldn’t have been good for anyone involved.

Stiles got out of the SUV first. He walked around to the front and leaned against the hood. Derek and Laura got out at the same time and walked to Stiles, both of them forming solid walls on either side of his body.

Laura and Derek both turned their head to the left at the same time, zeroing in on a cluster of trees. Stiles followed their lead and looked just in time to see Allison step out from behind the thickest tree in the small grove. Stiles pushed himself off the front of the car and started heading in her direction, Laura and Derek walking beside him.

She met them at the halfway point between the parking lot and the trees. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and she was wearing athletic clothing, a small towel was draped around her neck. She looked…frazzled. It had been a few weeks since Stiles last saw her up close, but she looked worse than he’d remembered. She was pale, her eyes had heavy bags that made it seem like she hadn’t got a restful sleep in a long time.

Maybe she hadn’t.

Stiles empathized with her. He knew about taking sleep for granted, about how much you didn’t realize what a good night’s sleep did for you until you’d gone days without one.

She looked stronger though, or at least deadlier. Her arms were toned, and Stiles was pretty sure she had more muscle than he could ever hope to have in his life. She moved gracefully, like a lioness walking across a savannah.

“Hey.” Allison smiled when they were finally close enough to talk.

“Hey,” Stiles smiled back, “we’ve missed you.”

Allison let out a long sigh, like she was releasing a breath she’d been holding for months, “God, I miss you guys too. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“I appreciate that you’re doing this, but if it’s too much we can always figure something else out.” Laura said.

Allison shook her head, “No, this is the best way. Gerard is…he trusts me. Or, at least, he thinks he can control me. I’m learning things about how he works, about how he gets other people to do things for him. It’s easy to see how he and Kate played off each other.”

Derek stiffened but didn’t say anything. Stiles reached down and threaded their fingers together, giving Derek’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

“He’s trying to make me into a new Kate. He’s pushing me, taunting me, trying to make me think the way she did.” Allison shook her head, “He’s starting to tell me more, hinting at things that I’ll ‘need to know someday’.”

“Is that why we’re here?” Derek asked.

Allison shook her head, “Not exactly. There’s something in town. Something new.”

“We know.” Laura said, “Or, we just found out about it.”

“Do you know what it is?” Allison asked.

“We don’t even know if it is something.” Stiles said, “We’re just going off weird behavior, and my dad and his natural instincts. A kid went missing just before the earthquake, showed up 24 hours later like nothing happened, and then the same thing happened to someone else. The first kid died yesterday.”

“That must be what Gerard was talking about.” Allison said, “I heard him on the phone after I got back from a run and then I went straight to the phone to text you.”

“What happened?” Laura asked, “I mean, you haven’t used the phone to contact us since this all started so it’s got to be important.”

“Gerard is trying to get to the body of the kid who died.” Allison said, “He’s got a way into the funeral home they’re taking it to tomorrow. I don’t know what he’s hoping to find, but he was very insistent that he got to see the body.”

“Shit.” Laura whispered, “They’re moving the body tomorrow?”

Allison nodded.

“That means the body is still in the morgue now?” Stiles asked, “Right?”

“Yeah, he said it would be easier to get to the body at the funeral home tomorrow than at the morgue tonight.”

“Who was he talking to? Another hunter?” Derek asked.

Allison took a deep breath, “That’s the other reason I needed to talk to you sooner rather than later. I think…I think Gerard has someone in the Sheriff’s Department in his pocket.”

“What?” Stiles gaped, “No, that’s impossible.”

Stiles couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it. He’d known most of the deputies his entire life, none of them seemed like the kind of people that would get in bed with creepy Gerard Argent and his band of werewolf hating sycophants.

“He referred to whoever he was on the phone with as ‘deputy’ and he mentioned the price he knew he had to pay the deputy.” Allison frowned, “They hung up before he could say anything else, but Gerard said things about knowing people in high places, about having connections. I tried to get him to tell me more, but I don’t think he trusts me enough. He doesn’t think I’m strong enough to become the matriarch, which makes him think I’m not worthy of knowing who’s in his network. I’m working on it though, and I’ll try to find out more.”

Stiles looked at Laura and was surprised to find her looking off into the distance. She looked unsettled, but she quickly cleared her throat and refocused.

“You’ve done an excellent job so far,” Laura said, “don’t do anything if you think it’s not completely safe. I don’t want you to get hurt just because you’re trying to help us. It means a lot to me that you’d even risk this, but still.”

Allison nodded, “I understand. I’m not just doing this for you though, I’m doing it for myself and what’s left of my family. I don’t think the Argent name is inherently evil, I think it’s just spent too many years being bogged down by Gerard, Kate, and their darkness. I want to bring it back into the light, I want to be proud of it and use the name to protect people from things that would hurt them.”

Stiles smiled at that. Allison was at least trying to do something, trying to make some kind of change that would better the world. She was just a teenage girl, but she had the weight of the world on her shoulders and so far she didn’t seem to be crumbling under it.

“At least it’s a noble goal.” Derek shrugged, “Anything else?”

Allison shook her head. She didn’t seem to be bothered by Derek’s indifference. Laura was good at compartmentalizing, at separating Allison from their past, but Derek didn’t always do so well. Stiles understood, obviously, and so did Allison.

“Hey,” Allison said as they turned to leave, “that night when I saw you in the preserve, did the spell on the arrowhead necklace you gave me not work?”

Laura huffed out a laugh and rolled her eyes, “Oh no, it worked. It worked so well that a certain Beta of mine just took the literal warning on Stiles’ arm as an invitation to go find you.”

“Oh.” Allison said softly, “Sorry.”

Laura rested a hand on Allison’s shoulder, “It’s not your fault, or even his. I underestimated how hard this whole thing would be on him, I should have thought more about the consequences of taking his anchor away like that. It’s actually a small miracle that he hasn’t done anything reckless other than that.”

“Hopefully it will be over soon.” Allison said, “I feel like I’m close to finding something I can use to turn on him.”

And right there was the crux of Allison’s whole plan: she wanted to take down a radical group of hunters as legally as possible. Peter had balked at the idea, simply suggesting that they kill Gerard and be done with it. Allison’s counter argument held more weight though, because if Gerard was just mysteriously killed it would do nothing to stop someone else from stepping up and taking his place.

His dad wasn’t entirely aware of their plan, and he certainly would not have agreed to sending a sixteen-year-old girl into a dangerous syndicate as a mole, but he had given them general advice on how undercover operations usually worked. Allison needed something big, something irrefutably illegal, and something that didn’t have to do with the supernatural.

“What have you found?” Stiles asked.

“I’ve spent the last few months wondering how Gerard gets the money for everything he has. My family is well off, but we’re certainly not rolling in enough money to hire hundreds of freelance mercenaries and purchase enough artillery to arm a small nation.” Allison reached up and undid her ponytail, shaking her hair out as it fell over her shoulders, “I think I figured out where he’s getting his money.”

“Where?” Stiles asked, enraptured.

“Drugs.” Allison rolled her eyes, “I almost couldn’t believe it. It’s so…pedestrian for him but I guess it’s a straightforward way to make money. I was looking through some of his things the other night and I found a bag of cocaine.”

“Seriously?” Derek gaped, “Gerard does coke?”

“He would be a lot nicer if he was on drugs.” Allison laughed, “He’s selling it. There was a ledger, like a black book, it was coded but I think it’s a list of all his transactions.”

Allison pulled out her phone and turned it on, navigating to her photo gallery and showing them pictures she’d taken. She swiped through several photos of pages covered in messy handwriting, the final picture was a single page with a date circled in red marker, and an address of somewhere in Beacon Hills highlighted in yellow.

“That’s two weeks from today.” Laura said.

Allison nodded, “And that address is a warehouse in the city, it’s only a couple miles away from your apartment actually.”

“You think he’s getting a shipment brought into Beacon Hills?” Derek asked.

“Yep,” Allison smiled, “so we just have to wait for two more weeks and then we’ll be able to take him down once and for all.”

“We should tell my dad about this.” Stiles said.

They all looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Stiles shrunk back, “OK, OK, I know I’m the patron saint of not telling parents anything, but this is literally his job.”

Allison ran a hand through her hair, “I need more time to find more evidence. Gerard might not even show up to that drop, he has people for that. If I can find something that connects him to it without a shadow of a doubt, then we can tell your dad.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighed, “but be safe about it.”

Allison smiled, “I always am.”

Stiles shook his head, but he couldn’t help but smile. Allison pulled him into a hug, crushing him with her strength. Stiles couldn’t even be mad about it as he hugged her back.

Allison left her hands on his shoulders for another moment, “Tell Scott I miss him, OK?”

“For sure,” Stiles smiled, “you still have that emergency ring, right?”

When Stiles and Lydia were working on the spell for the necklace, Lydia had stumbled across a spell they could place on a ring so it could send out a call for help if the wearer was in danger. Stiles latched onto the idea quickly, gathering everything he’d need to cast the spells on the ring and the proximity necklace. All Allison would have to do to activate the ring was hold her thumb over the obsidian stone inlayed in the ring and it would send Stiles a message in the same way the amber arrowhead necklace sent him a warning of Allison’s proximity.

“It’s next to the arrowhead necklace in my jewelry box.” Allison said.

“Good,” Stiles pointed at her, “please wear it if you’re doing anything dangerous and or stupid.”

“OK.” Allison laughed.

“Promise?” Stiles asked.

“I promise.” Allison rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, walking back towards the small grove of trees she’d came from.

Stiles, Derek, and Laura walked back to the SUV in silence. Stiles filed into the back while Derek and Laura took the front, Derek sliding in behind the steering wheel. He looked back towards the place he’d last seen Allison, and there was no sign of her. The fact that Stiles had no idea where she went or how she did it so silently would probably drive him crazy for the rest of his life.

“You know what this mean, right?” Stiles asked as soon as Derek cranked the engine.

“We have to tell your dad that there might be a mole in his department.”

“No.” Stiles said automatically, “I mean, yes, he needs to know that. But no, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh.” Derek said, casting a sideways glance at Laura.

Stiles sighed, “You two are hopeless. I can’t be the only person who spent that conversation trying to figure out how we can get to the body before Gerard.”

Derek all but slammed on the brakes, “Seriously? You want to steal a body?”

“Dude, human on board!” Stiles gasped, digging the seatbelt out of his clavicle, “No one said anything about stealing a body, and frankly it’s a bit worrying that you’d just jump straight to that extreme. We just need to _see_ it before Gerard does.”

Laura’s head fell back towards the headrest, “He’s right. Gerard wants to see the body for a reason, we can’t let him get a head start on this.”

“And how do you expect us to make that happen?” Derek asked, shaking his head, “Are we just supposed to walk into the morgue?”

Stiles shrugged, “Pretty much.”

 

X

 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Derek trailed behind Melissa McCall as they filed into an elevator that would take them to one of the lower levels of Beacon Hills General. Stiles was directly behind him, and Peter brought up the rear. Derek had been adamant about not bringing Peter, but Laura wasn’t able to join them on their crime spree and Stiles put up a compelling argument to include Peter.

Stiles’ argument boiled down to: Peter is crazy, crazy people are the best people to break the law with.

Derek couldn’t exactly argue either of those facts, and Peter had jumped at the offer when Stiles called him.

Which is how Derek found himself breaking into the morgue with his boyfriend, his uncle, and the mother of one of his pack members.

“It’s for the greater good, Ms. McCall.” Stiles said, his tone far too light for someone walking through a dimly lit hallway towards a room of dead bodies, “We can’t let Gerard be the first one to see the body, and if we can figure out what did this then we’ll be able to stop it before it kills someone else.”

Melissa sighed, “You’re lucky we’re on light duty tonight, there’s normally at least three people in the morgue overnight but with the lack of deaths we’ve had lately they’ve only got one on staff tonight.”

“It’s a sign,” Peter said, “the universe wants us to examine this body.”

“I pulled up the database before we came down here,” Melissa said, ignoring Peter, “the guy on staff tonight just clocked out for his break.”

“They just leave the morgue open during their breaks?” Derek asked.

Melissa shook her head, “Not normally, but there’s usually at least two people working overnight so they can go at separate times. There’s a security guard who makes rounds every twenty minutes or so, he just came off the elevator as we went down so you’ve got at least fifteen minutes before we need to get out of here.”

“We’ll be done in five.” Peter said.

The elevator doors opened, and the group exited together.

“This is the floor.” Melissa started walking down a dimly lit hallway, “The morgue is just down that way.”

They followed her, and Derek could instantly tell they were underground. The hallway felt like it was closing in on them from every side. Why were morgues always in the basement?

“Cool.” Stiles pulled a sharpie out of his pocket and started walking back in the direction they’d come from.

He walked back towards the elevator and crouched in front of the wall a few feet in front of the metal doors, opening the sharpie with his teeth and holding the cap in his mouth. He leaned forward and pressed the tip of the marker against the wall and started to scribble something Derek couldn’t make out in the low light.

“Stiles!” Melissa hissed, “What are you doing?”

“Magic.” Stiles mumbled his reply around the cap in his mouth.

Derek watched as Stiles stood up, eyed the marking on the wall, and then drew something on the top of his left hand. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and held the palm of his right hand over the top of the drawing on his left. Derek felt the moment Stiles’ magic connected, it made the hairs on his arm stand on end. Peter’s nostrils flared and he looked at Stiles a few moments with electric blue eyes until they faded back to normal. Stiles leaned back down and covered the drawing on the wall with the palm of his left hand before walking back over to them.

“What was that?” Melissa asked.

Stiles pointed at Peter, “Go walk back towards the elevator and cross in front of where I wrote on the wall.”

Peter nodded, turning on his heel and walking back down the hall. Stiles held up his hand, and just as Peter passed the spot where Stiles had been writing on the wall, the collection of circles and swooping lines on the back of his hand lit up with a dull red light. The light faded as Peter stepped back inside the elevator, and it flared to life again as Peter turned and walked back towards their group.

Melissa stared at Stiles slack jawed, “Stiles, that’s amazing.”

“It’s nothing major,” Stiles blushed, turning his head to hide the color, “it’s just a proximity ward, I saw it in one of the books Peter gave me and I made a few modifications to it. The book says that they normally have to be done with blessed chalk or paint, but I updated it a bit and figured out how to get it to work with the 21st century Sharpie.”

Peter grabbed Stiles’ hand, gently turning it over and holding it in place. Derek fought back every instinct that told him to growl, or worse, bite Peter.

Peter pulled Stiles’ hand closer to his face, “Very impressive, your line work is better than most beginners.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, pulling his hand back, “I’ve spent a lot of my free time looking into defensive and preemptive stuff, I figure everyone would enjoy less fighting if it was possible.”

Peter nodded, “Keep up the good work.”

“We don’t have all night boys,” Melissa said, “the morgue is just a few doors down from here.”

They pulled themselves back together and continued their trip down the hallway. A few of the lights flickered as they walked, and Derek couldn’t shake the way the whole place made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He was scanning the way in front of them when he noticed a black globe in the center of the ceiling as they turned a corner in the hallway.

Derek turned his head away from what he assumed was a security camera, “Shouldn’t we be worried about those?”

“Those things?” Melissa laughed, “They haven’t worked since Scott and Stiles were in elementary school.”

“So they’ve only been down for about a year?” Peter grinned.

Stiles scoffed, elbowing Peter in the side. “Bite me, Peter.”

“I’ll leave that to Derek.” Peter replied, a smug grin on his face.

Stiles huffed, crossing his hands over his chest. He glared daggers at Peter, and Peter slowly reached down and flicked him on the tip of his nose. Stiles’ eyes went wide, he reeled back in surprise, and then quickly stuck his foot out to try and trip Peter. Peter laughed, easily dancing around Stiles’ foot. Stiles glared at him again, sticking his tongue out and blowing a raspberry at him.

“Enough!” Derek sighed, “Both of you, knock it off.”

Stiles turned his glare to Derek, and then he poked him in the ribs. Derek couldn’t believe he was the adult who had to chaperone this madness.

“Here we are.” Melissa stood in front of a set of swinging doors that had the word morgue written on them in bolded red letters. There were two square glass windows in the center of each door, but nothing else that would let anyone see into the room.

Stiles waved both hands in front of the door, “Don’t dead, open inside.”

Melissa looked at Stiles and rolled her eyes, obviously long-suffering to Stiles’ references that Derek didn’t even understand half of the time. She pushed her way through one of the doors, holding it open so the rest of them.

Derek hated the room the instant they stepped inside. It was cold, cold enough to penetrate the natural warmth of his body. The smell was terrible, he gagged as the door closed behind them and cut them off from the small bit of fresh air that was breaking through the stench of death and decay.

“It smells like somebody died.” Peter deadpanned.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Very funny.”

Derek looked at the wall in front of them, cocking his head to the side as his eyes swept over the rows and rows of square metal doors. He knew what was behind each of them, and he really didn’t want to be the one who had to open one of those doors and roll out the body that was inside. He also didn’t want to have to open multiple just to find the body they were looking for.

“Do we know which one he’s in?” Derek asked, sweeping his arm towards the drawers.

Melissa walked over to one of the metal desks and started rifling through a stack of files. Derek turned away from her and walked over to Stiles, he’d drifted across the room to one of the autopsy tables and was looking at the organ scale with a detached fascination. Derek stopped behind him, placing his hand on the small of Stiles’ back. Stiles jumped, startled by Derek’s sudden appearance.

“Sorry.” Derek said, listening to the sound of Stiles’ heart hammering in his chest.

“It’s fine.” Stiles laughed awkwardly, “Who would have guessed that morgues would make me jumpy?”

“I found it.” Melissa said, holding up a sheet of paper, “Bobby Hankins, drawer 42.”

Stiles walked by his side as Derek made his way over to the wall of drawers. Melissa stood off to the side, and Peter stepped around Stiles to stand in front of drawer 42. Derek only noticed that Peter had pulled on a pair of gloves when Peter reached up to grasp the latch of the drawer. Peter’s light blue gloved hand pulled the latch towards his body, and then turned it to the left. The room echoed with the thunk of the cooler unlocking, and Peter pulled the door open.

The inside of the drawer was dark, and all Derek could see were a set of pale feet sticking out from under a white sheet. There was a tag on the toe of the body, Melissa looked away as Peter pulled the tray out.

Derek looked over at Melissa, “You don’t have to stay for this.”

“I’d feel better if I did.” Melissa swallowed, shaking her head, “At least it feels better to me if there’s an actual medical professional in the room.”

Derek nodded, and then he stepped forward to stand next to Peter as he pulled the sheet back and uncovered the body. Stiles and Melissa walked to the other side of the slab, and then the four of them were looking down at the body with equal parts horror and confusion.

“This can’t be right.” Melissa said, “There’s…these drawers are refrigerated.”

The body was already halfway decomposed. It looked like a body that had been sitting out in direct sunlight, not a body that had been in a cooler since being discovered. Stiles reached over the body and stuck his hand into the back of the drawer, pursing his lips before he pulled his hand back out and rubbed it against the front of his jeans.

“It’s still cold,” Stiles said, “I don’t think it failed or anything.”

Melissa walked back to the desk and grabbed the paper she’d been holding before, “It says that he’s been in refrigeration since he arrived at the morgue, they haven’t taken him out since they put him in. This is actually impossible.”

“Never say impossible,” Peter laughed, “impossible is always possible if you try hard enough.”

Peter studied the body for another second before he reached out and poked at its chest. He cocked his head to the side and frowned, poking the body again. He hesitantly leaned forward, not stopping until his nose was just inches from the purple, mottled flesh of the body. Derek wouldn’t get his nose that close to a decomposing body unless he had no other choice, as it stood currently he was mostly breathing with his mouth.

Peter inhaled deeply through his nose, and Stiles made a gagging sound and turned away from the body.

“Interesting,” Peter said, lifting his head away from the body, “from the state of decomposition this body is in, I should be gagging and running for the nearest pine scented air freshener.”

“And?” Derek asked, not understanding where this whole thing was going.

“Smell for yourself.” Peter said, pointing at the body.

“Peter…” Derek groaned.

Peter sighed, “I promise it’s not as bad as it looks.”

A promise from Peter was a tricky thing, but they were running out of time and Derek knew Peter well enough to know that he wouldn’t share the theory he’d obviously come up with unless Derek did what he asked. He took a deep breath, leaned down towards the body, and inhaled through his nose.

Derek didn’t expect the smell that hit him.

“What the hell?” Derek looked back up at Peter before inhaling again.

“What is it?” Stiles and Melissa asked at the same time.

“What do you smell?” Peter asked.

Derek hesitated, “Bananas.”

“Seriously?” Stiles’ mouth dropped open, “You’re telling me the corpse whose face is currently melting off smells like bananas? Bananas as in Gwen Stefani B-A-N-A-N-A-S bananas?”

Derek scrubbed at his nose, “Not just bananas, but it smells like vegetation. Organic.”

“Derek,” Melissa said his name carefully, “what are you trying to say?”

“I don’t know.” Derek said honestly, “Peter?”

Peter held one gloved hand up, “It’ll be easier if I show you.”

Before anyone could react, one of Peter’s claws popped through the latex of his glove. He reached down, slide his claw into the stomach of the body, and sliced it open.

“Oh my god!” Melissa gasped.

Stiles flailed, “Dude, what the fuck?”

Peter sighed, pulling his claw out, “Will you just look?”

Derek’s eyes followed to where Peter was pointing, and he didn’t understand what he was seeing. There should have been organs spilling out through the cut that Peter made, intestines, kidneys, anything.

But there was nothing, because the body was completely hollow.

Melissa pinched the bridge of her nose, staring at the hollow hole in the body, “I honestly miss the days when all I had to worry about was my kid having an asthma attack.”

Stiles walked around the slab, wedging himself between Peter and Derek. He leaned forward, looking into the dark pit in the center of the body. Stiles held up his hand, and after a few seconds one of the small orbs of light he liked to create popped into existence. He held his hand over the body, tipped it sideways, and the ball of light rolled off his hand like a marble and dropped down into the incision Peter made.

Once the body was filled with light it was abundantly clear that there was nothing inside of it. No bones, no nerves, no organs, not even any blood. The body wasn’t decomposing, it was collapsing in on itself because there was nothing to hold it up.

“So, one of two options.” Stiles said, closing his hand into a fist and making the ball of light disappear, “Option one: whatever did this to him ate literally everything inside his body, or option two: whatever came back home was never Bobby Hankins.”

“I don’t understand,” Melissa shook her head, “you said the boy was walking around after disappearing, right?”

Derek nodded, “The Sheriff said he came back and was moving around fine, but he was unresponsive whenever anyone tried to talk to him and he mostly slept all day.”

“So Bobby Hankins never came back after disappearing?” Melissa asked.

“I think,” Stiles said, hesitating for a moment, “something sent back a…shell?”

“Exactly, what was sent back to the Hankins home was merely a decoy.” Peter said, “Or as Stiles put it, a shell.”

“Do you know what did this?” Derek asked.

Peter nodded, “I believe so.”

“Uh, guys?” Stiles said, holding up his hand before anyone could ask Peter for an answer.

The mark on the back of Stiles’ hand was glowing red.

Derek turned his head to the side and listened for any sounds in the hallway. He could hear someone whistling as they walked, their footsteps echoing slightly in the empty hallway.

Melissa looked down at her watch, “Dammit, I lost track of time.”

Peter shoved the tray back into the cooler, closed the door, and fastened the lock. They all ran to the door and made their way back into the hall. Derek caught the door as it swung back to stop it from making any kind of sound.

The footsteps were getting closer to them. Derek looked down the opposite end of the hallway and saw a door that was labeled as emergency stair access, but he didn’t think they’d be able to make it down there in time, Peter and Derek could probably manage it on their own but not with two humans along for the ride.

“There!” Stiles whispered, pointing to a door in front of them.

“That’s a supply closet, all of us will never fit in there.” Melissa hissed.

The footsteps were close enough for Derek to hear without enhanced senses, and the creepy whistling echoed through the off-white hallway. Whoever was coming towards them was just around the corner.

“We’re gonna have to try.” Stiles whispered, grabbing the handle of the door, “Shit. It’s locked.”

Derek huffed, “I’ll break it.”

Stiles shook his head, “Too much noise, I’ve got it.”

Stiles held his hand over the handle of the door, and half a second later Derek heard the sound of the locking mechanism popping open. Derek could see the shadow of the person just around the corner, so he ushered everyone inside and closed the door behind them. It wasn’t as tight of a fit as they thought, but Derek pulled Stiles close and held him against his body, freeing up enough room for Peter and Melissa to be comfortable.

Derek wound his arms around Stiles’ waist, he could feel the rapid thumping of Stiles’ heart against his own chest with how close they were. Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder, and Derek turned his head towards the door so he could listen to what was happening inside the morgue.

They stayed in the closet for a few minutes, but eventually the guy in the morgue must have turned on a radio because rock music began blasting in Derek’s ears. Derek cringed at the sudden auditory assault, and he muttered a curse at the exact same time as Peter.

“I believe our friend is distracted enough for us to get away.” Peter said, edging around Derek and Stiles to open the door.

They all but ran down the hall, moving as fast as they could without making any sound. Derek kept a constant ear out for any noise, but they made it to the elevator without any problems. Stiles hit the call button and the doors opened immediately, he jammed his finger into the button that would send the elevator to the ground level, and then frantically pressed the door close button.

Stiles collapsed against Derek’s side when the doors finally closed, “That was close.”

Melissa breathed a sigh of relief, “I don’t think I can do that again.”

“That’s fine, we know how to get to the morgue next time we need to see a dead body.” Stiles grinned at Melissa.

“Stiles.” Melissa glared at him, her eyes holding a warning.

Stiles held his hands up, “Hey! It was just a joke.”

“Jokes aside,” Derek said, “Peter, what do you think killed that kid?”

The elevator doors opened, and no one who walked by seemed to be paying them any attention.

Peter’s reply was cut off by a buzzing sound coming from Melissa’s pocket as they stepped out of the elevator. She pulled out her phone and frowned.

“I’m being paged, I have to go.” Melissa said, pointing at them, “This never happened.”

Derek nodded, and Stiles gave her a salute. Melissa rolled her eyes at him and turned to disappear down the hallway. Peter started walking towards the front of the hospital, Derek and Stiles followed, and he didn’t say anything until they were in the parking lot next to the SUV.

Peter leaned against the side of the car, “I believe we have an Aswang in Beacon Hills.”

X

 

Lydia’s eyes flicked up from her menu and to Erica. Erica was across the table from her, absentmindedly twirling a lock of hair around her fingers. She took a second to admire her, to catalogue the changes she’d gone though since becoming a werewolf. Lydia wouldn’t say she was a different person, it was more like the person she’d always been on the inside was now visible on the outside. Erica had always been strong, and Lydia derided herself for spending years casually ignoring her in the way that almost everyone used to.

Laura sat two baskets of fries down on the table with a hollow thump, startling Lydia. Laura slid into the booth and settled down next to Erica.

“God, this place has the best fries.” Laura groaned, shoving four in her mouth at the same time.

“Right?” Erica plucked five out of the basket, “I could eat them every single day.”

Lydia picked up a single fry and swiped it through a glob of ketchup, “Werewolf metabolism is very unfair.”

“You could have banshee metabolism.” Erica offered, picking up more food.

“That might be true, but I’m not willing to test it.” Lydia took a sip of her water.

Laura picked up another fry and held it out to her, “Enjoy the fries, Lydia. It’s girls night out, there is no complaining about calories at girls night out.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never had to count calories in her entire life.” Lydia glared without any heat before leaning forward and taking the fry from Laura with her teeth.

Laura laughed, “You could be with the boys tonight.”

Lydia huffed, she supposed eating a boatload of French fries was the better outing when her only other option was breaking into the morgue and examining dead bodies.

“How’d you get out of that one?” Erica asked Laura, “Shouldn’t the Alpha be the one doing all the dangerous shit?”

“I have one word for you: delegation.” Laura grinned, “Knowing when to delegate is the most important skill a leader can have.”

“The thought of Stiles and Peter running wild in the morgue terrifies me.” Erica shuddered.

“Stiles probably can’t help himself right now,” Lydia huffed, “and I imagine Peter is beside himself with excitement.”

Laura shrugged, “Derek is there to keep them in line.”

Lydia and Erica laughed in unison.

“What?” Laura looked between them.

“Do you want to tell her, or should I?” Lydia looked at Erica.

Erica swept a hand towards Lydia, “By all means.”

Lydia sighed, “Derek is useless when it comes to controlling Stiles at this point. If there’s a brain in a jar that Stiles wants to take home, all he’ll have to do is whisper sweet nothings into Derek’s ear and the brain will be buckled into the front seat of that dreadful Jeep by the time the night is over.”

Laura tipped her head to the side, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully, “Crap.”

Erica and Lydia laughed again.

“At least Melissa is there?” Laura offered, “I’m reasonably confident that Melissa won’t let anyone walk out of the hospital with a brain.”

By the time their meal was done, Lydia had eaten two baskets of fries on her own, along with her lettuce wrap she’d gotten for dinner. She groaned, dropping her head back to rest against the vinyl booth. Laura ruffled her hair as she walked by on her trip to pay for dinner, and Lydia spent several seconds readjusting her hair before she stood from the booth.

“Hey,” Erica whispered, “that creepy guy has been staring at you for the last half hour.”

Lydia looked over her shoulder, but Erica hissed at her to stop.

“Don’t make it so obvious!”

Lydia rolled her eyes, flipped her hair, and looked over to the corner of the restaurant Erica had not so discretely pointed to.

It was empty.

“Erica, there’s no one there.”

“What?” Erica said, “He was just there, I know I saw him. He was sitting at that table by himself almost the entire time we were here.”

Lydia looked over her shoulder one more time, but the table was still empty, “Maybe he heard you call him creepy.”

Laura came up behind them, throwing her arms around both their shoulders, “Ready to head out?”

Lydia nodded, and they made their way to the front of the restaurant and walking outside.

“Laura?” Erica asked, “Did you see that guy who was staring at the back of Lydia’s head the entire time we were eating?”

Laura wrinkled her nose, “No?”

Erica huffed, kicking her feet against the sidewalk.

“It was probably nothing,” Lydia waved her hand dismissively, “it was probably just some guy I turned down, there’s been a few of them since Jackson fled the country.”

“I guess.” Erica frowned, “I’m probably just seeing things.”

“Hypervigilance.” Laura said, “It’s something that happens to bitten wolves, they have a hard time adjusting to their enhanced senses so they end up paying attention to everything at the same time, it can make them a little paranoid until they get it under control. You’ve been doing a good job at your control since the bite, was there anything specific about tonight?”

Erica shrugged, “Maybe the restaurant was just too crowded, too much happening at once I guess.”

Laura nodded, “We’ll work on sensory control at the next training.”

Lydia trailed after them across the street and into the adjacent parking lot. She walked to her BMW that was parked next to the Camaro, and unlocked the door. Erica rode with Lydia to dinner, but Laura was taking her home because her house was in the opposite direction.

“I’d say our first official girls night was a rousing success.” Laura grinned, laying her arms across the top of the Camaro.

“I’ll let you know when I check the scale in the morning.” Lydia sighed.

Laura and Erica rolled their eyes in tandem.

“Goodnight.” Lydia waved before she lowered herself into the car.

“Text me when you get home!” Laura said, sounding far too much like a concerned mother.

Lydia rolled down the window, “I will.”

Lydia pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. They’d gone to a new place that had just opened on the other side of town, which meant it was the farthest place from her house that Lydia could go while still remaining in the city limits of Beacon Hills. She had a longer drive than she’d wanted to make in front of her, so she took the side road that cut into the preserve at the last minute. It would cut her drive time in half, the only con being that the road was devoid of street lights. It didn’t pose too much of a risk though, Lydia had driven that dark stretch of road countless times during the night.

She let the soft thrum of the radio playing in the background help keep her awake. She was tired, probably too tired to be driving, but she only had another ten minutes or so before she made it home. She turned her wheel just enough to guide the car through the sharp turn ahead, which shouldn’t have been a problem. Tired or not, Lydia never had an issue with this turn. Of course, Lydia’s car had never not slowed down when she pressed the brake during the turn.

Lydia slammed on the brake pedal again as the car began to pick of speed, but nothing happened. The pedal went down to the floor of the car easily, too easily for it to be working. She looked at the speedometer and saw the number rapidly climbing, she tried wrenching the wheel to keep herself on the road, but she was going too fast, and the turn was too sharp.

Lydia felt her entire body vibrate as the car slipped off the asphalt and onto the ground beside it. Even though she knew it would be useless, she slammed on the brake again.

Nothing happened.

Her car’s headlights lit up the forest in front of her, giving her a perfect view of the tree that the car was heading straight for. She took a deep breath, pressed herself back against her seat as hard as she could, and closed her eyes right as the front of her car collided with the tree, the sound of twisting metal threatening to swallow her whole.

Lydia opened her eyes and saw white.

For a brief moment she irrationally thought she was dead. Her first conclusion was that the white light people talked about was supremely underwhelming, her second conclusion was that she was alive, because she was certain there would be no car horns in heaven.

“Airbag.” She whispered to herself.

The white directly in front of her was an airbag, and the horn belonged to her own car.

Right. Tree. Crash.

Lydia took a deep breath, and she was glad when she didn’t feel any sharp pain. No sharp pain meant that her ribs weren’t broken. Maybe. She could move her neck, and her arms, and she could feel her legs. All good things.

The windshield was shattered, glass littered the dashboard and on Lydia’s lap. She looked down at her arms and saw several cuts, all dripping with blood, but it could have been much worse. She checked her reflection in the visor mirror and winced when she saw the gash on her forehead. She didn’t think she had a concussion, but even Lydia wasn’t arrogant enough to think that she could properly diagnose herself after a car accident.

She reached down into the center divider to grab her phone, but it wasn’t there. She sighed, unbuckled her seatbelt, and ignored the way her body protested as she leaned over to look into the passenger’s floorboard for her phone. She found it, groaned at the shattered screen, and immediately threw it back down when it wouldn’t even power on.

“Perfect.” Lydia rasped, “Just fucking perfect.”

Lydia opened the door and stumbled out of the car. She immediately tripped as she stood and fell to the ground, hissing when her hand landed on a blunt rock. She used a nearby tree to help herself up and then looked at her car. The front end was entirely wrapped around the trunk of the tree, and steam was coming from the mangled hood. She popped the trunk and dug through it until she found her emergency kit, she pulled out a flashlight and a yellow warning cone and turned back towards the road.

There was nothing she could do with a busted phone, so her only hope was someone driving by and finding her. Though with Lydia’s luck, and the way Beacon Hills operated, Jack the Ripper himself would probably be the next person to come along. Whatever, Lydia could probably take him if she put her mind to it.

She turned on the flashlight and pointed it towards the road, which was only a couple hundred feet away. She climbed up the embankment, digging her feet into the dirt and ruining her shoes in the process. Once she made it up she sat the warning cone in the middle of the road and stepped off to the side. She stood by for a few minutes, tapping her foot against the asphalt, but she couldn’t hear the sound of any oncoming cars. It was a straight stretch once you rounded the corner, and there was no sign of headlights coming from that direction.

Just before she was about to sit down, her entire body went cold. The hairs on her arms stood up, and she heard the sound of flapping wings above her. It was the same sound she’d heard outside her window after the earthquake, but this time it was real. She felt the draft of air hit her as the wings flapped above her, she swung the flashlight up towards the sky just in time to make out the silhouette of an outstretched wing in the cloudless sky.

She lost track of it for a second, but when she turned around she saw it. Whatever it was, it swooped down from the sky and onto the road. Lydia watched as it dropped down on two legs and stood in the center of the road roughly five hundred feet in front of her.

It was tall and lanky, all sinewy muscle. She turned the flashlight towards it, but she couldn’t make out much from the distance. It took a step forward, and Lydia didn’t move.

 It took another, and another, and another. Lydia stood her ground, unsure of what else to do. The closer it got, the more visibility the flashlight gave her. The skin of the creature was pale white, almost translucent.

It stopped walking and opened its mouth. Lydia expected a cry of some sort, maybe a growl, but what she got was a long tongue extending out of the creature’s mouth. It was at least two feet long, and it seemed to move on its own. It looked more like a snake than a tongue.

Lydia opened her own mouth, she could feel a scream growing inside her. The tongue of the monster danced in front of it like a cobra in a basket, and as soon as Lydia opened her mouth it stopped moving, curling itself back inside the creature’s mouth. Lydia clenched her fist, took a deep breath, and screamed in the direction of the monster.

The monster thrust its arms out to the side, leathery wings unfurling. It flapped its arms once and launched itself into the sky, just narrowly missing the impact of Lydia’s scream. The scream hit the ground just behind where the creature had been standing, cracking the asphalt and leaving a shallow pothole in the road.

Lydia looked up, swinging her flashlight to try and follow the creature. She could only see an outline of it in the darkness, but it was enough for her to be able to duck as it swopped down towards her. Lydia pushed herself to the side, throwing her body down onto the asphalt and rolling herself into the dirt on the side of the road. She could see the way the flashlight reflected off razor sharp claws just before she rolled back down the embankment.

She tucked her body into a tight ball as she rolled down the hill, hoping she didn’t hit another tree with her body this time. She didn’t, and as soon as her head stopped spinning she pushed herself up from the ground and ran towards her car. The trunk was still open so she dove for it, narrowly missing another swooping strike from the monster flying above her. The knife Allison had given her was sitting in the middle of the trunk. She grabbed it, instantly turning on her heel and swiping out with it.

The timing was perfect, the blade of the knife caught the side of the monster as it made another pass at her. It made a hissing sound, not unlike that of a cat, and flew back up into the air. Lydia tried to track it with the flashlight, she screamed in the general direction of where she thought it was, but the impact of the scream just hit the top of a tree and sent a collection of branches tumbling to the ground.

It was still flying above her, she could hear the rhythmic whoosh of its wings circling her. It was the predator, and she was the prey. But if there was one thing Lydia never was, it was prey. She knew she was at a disadvantage being so relatively out in the open, the monster would always have the higher ground on her. She didn’t know how fast it could move on two legs, but she at least stood a better chance of hitting it with the force of a scream if it wasn’t flying above her.

Her phone was busted, she had no way of calling for help, and the only thing she had to rely on was her brain. Her brain was telling her she’d have a better chance at fighting in the woods, so she turned and sprinted into them. She used the flashlight to light her path the best she could, but she still stumbled over a few knotted roots.

The tree cover was too dense for anything to fly above her, and even if it was above the trees there was no way it could dive-bomb her through the thick layer of foliage. It might still be able to fly in the forest, but it wouldn’t be able to take the higher ground. She’d at least eliminated part of the threat of whatever was after her. She mentally logged everything about the monster in her head so they could research it later, because Lydia was getting out of this alive.

She was not going to be another statistic, another mysterious death in the woods of Beacon Hills.

Wings flapped again, and Lydia looked over her shoulder to see the monster flying low to the ground. It twisted its body sideways to avoid hitting a tree with a wing, and then flapped them again to pick up speed as it chased her.

It was still flying, but it wasn’t flying above her. Lydia could work with that.

She dashed to the left, sliding around a large tree. The monster followed, but as it got closer it slowed down. Its feet dragged against the ground, eventually coming to a complete stop as it pulled its arms in close to its side and furled its wings. It was on two legs now and it started running towards her, Lydia screamed in its direction, but it jumped to the side and onto the trunk of a tree at the speed of light.

It crouched horizontally on the trunk of the tree, sharp claws dug into the wood. It opened its mouth again, that terrible tongue lolling out at her, and then launched itself off the tree. Before Lydia could open her mouth to scream, she saw a dark shape with two pinpoints of red light tackle the creature midair.

A snarl, a growl, and a howl rang out through the woods. Lydia’s iron grip on the knife loosened a bit, and she let out a greatly relieved, if slightly hysterical, laugh.

“Lydia!” Erica’s golden eyes shone through the darkness, “Are you OK?”

She could still make out the dark shadows that were Laura and the creature fighting, but she focused on Erica as best as she could.

“I’m alive,” Lydia said, “how are you here?”

The creature’s body collided with a tree, and Laura’s alpha form pounced on it.

“We’d just gotten to my house and we heard you scream.” Erica said, looking over her shoulder at the fight.

“You heard me?” Lydia asked just as Erica ran towards the fight.

The creature’s tongue lashed at Laura, and she let out a low whine as it cut across her flank. Laura growled and ran towards the creature again, her teeth snapping at it as it jumped backwards. Erica sprinted from the side, throwing herself towards the creature. It dodged the blow from her body, but one of Erica’s claws was able to rip through the skin on its chest.

Lydia took a deep breath and ran towards them.

Laura used the opening to lunge for its leg. It let out a high-pitched screech as Laura’s teeth sunk into the pale skin of the right leg, it clawed at her face but Laura was unyielding. Erica darted around to the other side, taking advantage of the distraction and throwing herself onto the ground at its feet. Her claws dug into its left leg, the deep red blood was perfectly visible against the pale white skin.

It only took Lydia a second to realize what they were doing. They were holding it in place. Its arms were extended, leathery wings flapping up and down as it tried to get out of their hold. The combined strength of Laura and Erica was too much for it though, and it wasn’t able to get off the ground in the slightest.

“Now!” Lydia yelled, taking a deep breath.

She ran forward, and she screamed just as Laura and Erica released their grips on the creature. It wasn’t able to dodge her scream this time, and the force of it hit the creature in the center of the chest, sending it flying backwards into another tree. It screamed as a jagged branch tore through its stomach, impaling it on the tree.

Laura shook the blood off her face and bounded towards the creature again, jumping towards its throat for the killing blow. She didn’t make it in time though, the creature reached down and snapped the tip of the branch off before flapping its wings forward and using the force of it to propel itself off the branch entirely. It looked up the second its body was free, and then flew upwards. Lydia heard the sound of branches breaking as it tore its way through the canopy. She ran towards the spot it had been standing and looked up to find a jagged hole that led to the sky torn through the trees.  

The sound of flapping wings got further and further away until it disappeared completely.

“Are you OK?” Laura’s voice came from behind her.

Lydia turned to see Laura pulling on offered clothes from Erica, she tossed her hair to the side and rushed over to Lydia, resting her hand on her shoulder. Lydia looked down and saw black lines throbbing on Laura’s hand, and the pain she’d been ignoring started to melt away.

“I’m fine,” Lydia said, a little light headed, “my car not so much.”

“We heard your scream all the way from Erica’s house, we took off running and tracked you by scent.” Laura shook her head, “When I smelled blood…”

“I don’t know what happened.” Lydia admitted, “I was driving, then my brakes didn’t work, I crashed into a tree, and then I was being attacked by…whatever that was.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Laura said.

“The wings…” Lydia trailed off, “They were what I heard after the earthquake, whatever that was, was what I was sensing.”

“So,” Erica said, drawing out the vowel, “anyone wishing they would have gone to the morgue now?

Lydia wanted to laugh, but she was afraid her head would start hurting again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my favorite chapter so far, i had so much fun writing and rewriting certain parts of it. answers about a few things, and a few more questions abound! hopefully you liked it too, so feel free to tell me in the comments cuz i look forward to them!


	6. I've Got A Theory

 

 

 

 

Chapter Six

I’ve Got A Theory

 

 

Stiles let himself into the private office Deaton was currently occupying. Deaton was hunched over a cat, and the cat looked up at Stiles and promptly hissed at him. Stiles didn’t take any offense, cats had started to do that to him a lot lately. He figured it was probably a side-effect of hanging out with so many werewolves.

“What can you tell me about an Aswang?”

Deaton paused briefly before looking up, “Hello to you too, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Oh. Hi. Sorry.” Stiles said, belatedly realizing he was the one being rude in this situation.

“Did I hear you correctly when you asked about an Aswang?” Deaton asked, pushing down the plunger of the syringe in his hand.

Stiles nodded, “Yeah. Aswang all the way.”

“Why the sudden interest?” Deaton looked up, his eyebrows rose in a clear sign of confusion.

“Because we apparently have an Aswang problem.” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair.

He was a little frantic. He’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before, his nerves were shot between breaking into the morgue and learning about Lydia’s car accident. A terrifying, winged beast that kidnapped people and replaced them with weird plant pods was just the icing on the terrifying cake.

Deaton peeled his latex gloves off and tossed them in the red plastic bin behind him, “An Aswang in Beacon Hills? Stiles, there hasn’t been a confirmed Aswang sighting in North America in almost eighty years.”

“Well, I can exclusively confirm that yes, we do have an Aswang in Beacon Hills. I can also confirm that it’s already killed two people and has presumably replaced them with weird plant things that walk around for a few days, die, and then turn to mush. Also, Lydia was attacked by one in the middle of the night. So. Sighting confirmed.”

Stiles splayed his hands out on either side of his body, giving Deaton the best spirit fingers he’d ever seen outside of Bring It On. Deaton didn’t look like he appreciated the effort.

“You’ve seen the bodies?” Deaton picked the cat up and slipped it back into a carrying crate and motioned for Stiles to follow him through the door.

Deaton dropped the cat off in the back of the office and then turned towards the door that led to his creepy magical basement. Stiles didn’t like the place anymore, not since he got an infusion of Mariska’s magic. The place left him feeling unsettled, like there was too much magic brewing there. There was nothing he could do about it though, Deaton still had the best supernatural library in town and Stiles was at a loss because the books he had in his room had little to no information on an Aswang.

Deaton pulled a stack of books from the shelf next to a jar filled with black fluid, “It’s incredibly rare for an Aswang to venture so far out of its home territory. They’re the top predator in almost any area they reside, so they don’t usually like to deal with competition.”

“Well, I guess it just couldn’t resist the call of the evil lighthouse of doom formerly known as the Nemeton.”

“You said something attacked Miss Martin?” Deaton opened a book and pointed at the drawing of a creature with a bat like face and a wingspan that was probably as wide as Stiles was tall, “Is that what she saw?”

Stiles pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the drawing. He sent it to Lydia and sat his phone face up on the table so he’d see the notification the second it came through. He busied himself by skimming the information the book had about the Aswang.

“Wait, it says here that the Aswang is native to the Philippines.” Stiles shook his head, “You’re not suggesting that this thing flew over oceans and across the globe to get here.” 

Deaton hummed, “It’s possible, but it’s more likely that it came from South America. There have been sightings of them over the last decade or so, but no one has ever come into contact with one directly. At least to my knowledge.”

Stiles read the next several pages of Aswang material. He didn’t like what he was finding out.

“This thing is a vampire, right?” Stiles looked back down at the book, “It drinks the blood of its victims until they’re nothing more than a corpse that’s wasting away.”

“In a very general sense, yes, I suppose you could call an Aswang a vampire,” Deaton reached over and turned the page back to the drawing of the Aswang, “They do more than just drink blood though, they drink everything.”

“Everything?” Stiles’ eyes went wide, “Elaborate.”

“They feed with their tongue, not with their teeth. As it elongates, the tongue takes on a sharp edge. An Aswang usually stabs their victim with their tongue and uses it to siphon out blood, organs, and bone marrow.”

“What you’re saying is that it drinks the world’s most disgusting smoothie through a built-in bendy straw.”

Deaton ignored him, “Aswangs are a formidable threat.”

“Great.” Stiles groaned, “I was just thinking ‘Hey, you know what our summer vacation is missing? Flying vampires!’ so it’s nice to know the universe is looking out for me.” 

Deaton continued ignoring him, so Stiles dove into the books in front of him. He read over the pages of information about the Aswang, trying to parse out what was fact and what was fiction. Most everything agreed that an Aswang was, at its base, a shapeshifter. It didn’t always walk around as the Man-Bat, but spent the days as a human. That meant it technically couldn’t be killed by sunlight, but it was weaker during the daytime.

“Why would it go after Lydia?” Stiles asked.

“I presume it needed to feed again, so it marked her as its next target.” Deaton said.

“OK,” Stiles looked over his shoulder at Deaton, “but wouldn’t an Aswang be able to tell that Lydia herself wasn’t entirely human? Why would it go after someone who could put up more of a challenge than just a regular human?”

Deaton seemed like he was considering the question for a moment before he replied, “It’s possible that the Aswang was trying to eliminate competition by taking out something that could rival it for power.”

“Wonderful, we’ve got a killer vampire bat with an inferiority complex.”  

Deaton, predictably, didn’t reply.

Stiles’ phone buzzed, he opened up the text from Lydia and read her reply.

“Lydia said the thing in this book looks more or less like what attacked her,” Stiles told Deaton, “Laura and Erica were there too, they agree.”

“Aswang it is then.” Deaton walked over to the table with an armful of ingredients.

“What’re those for?” Stiles asked.

Deaton had several jars filled with what looked like olive oil, a collection of plastic bags filled with herbs and seeds, and a glass dropper bottle.

“It will become something that will help you identify the Aswang in human form.” Deaton said, “I don’t have everything needed to make it, there are several oils that have to be blessed by the right priest, but I should have everything that’s needed for you to put it together by the end of the week.”

“Me?” Stiles’ jaw dropped, “Why can’t you do it?”

Deaton sighed, “Different types of magic, Stiles. I’m a druid, I do not practice the same type of magic that you do. There are crossovers, yes, but this spell falls more on the occult side of things which means that it would be much more effective if you completed it.”

“OK,” Stiles eyed the ingredients in front of him, “what exactly are we going to do with all this stuff?”

Deaton separated the jars of oil from the rest of the items, “Once these are blessed by the right person, we’ll combine them with everything on the left side of the table, and then collect a drop of blood from each person you want to be able to identify the Aswang.”

“Blood magic,” Stiles gagged, “lovely.”

“Once the spell is done, if the Aswang is nearby the mixture will start to boil.”

“Boil?” Stiles’ eyebrows drew together.

“Boil, bubble, however you want to explain it.” Deaton waved his hands dismissively, “Regardless, the solution will react if you’re near the Aswang when it’s in human form. It’s the only fool proof way of identifying one outside of seeing it change with your own eyes.”

“Cool, so we all just have to walk around town thrusting jars of oil at random people to see if they start to boil. That won’t make us seem crazy _at all_.”

Deaton shrugged, “I’m sure you’ll think of a more elegant solution, and I’m sure if you’re having trouble you could always ask Peter since you’re so fond of his help.”

Stiles winced, it was a remarkably low blow for someone who was usually so silent and cryptic. Deaton was obviously still a little upset that Stiles had gravitated more towards Peter when trying to learn more about magic.

He couldn’t exactly help it, it just felt more natural. The magic inside of him used to belong to Peter’s wife, it only felt right to let Peter help him. Peter knew a lot, more than most of the pack gave him credit for, and while he didn’t practice magic himself, he’d been around it enough to know how to help Stiles.

Peter was also less cryptic and foreboding, it was a lot easier to work with someone who didn’t answer your question with another question. Sure, Peter was an asshole sometimes, but Stiles would take an asshole teacher who helped him over a helpful teacher who seemed to be more interested in playing a soft-spoken version of Yoda.

It wasn’t like Deaton hadn’t taught Stiles anything. A lot of the runes and wards that Stiles had been practicing came from Deaton’s books, Deaton was the first person to show him how to properly mark one down, but Deaton’s focus on magic was a lot less exciting than the world of Peter and Mariska.

Peter showed him how to conjure fireballs, Deaton showed him how to protect a garden from insects. They both had their uses, but one was a lot more interesting than the other.

“Can I borrow this?” Stiles asked, holding up the book that had the most information on the Aswang.

“Be my guest.” Deaton smiled, and then disappeared up the staircase and back into the central office.

Stiles grabbed a second book, one that was written in a language he didn’t understand, and placed it on top of the other one he planned to take home. It had even more information in it, so he hoped someone else would be able to translate it. He made his way up the stairs and out of the main office, throwing both books in the passenger seat before pulling out of the parking lot and heading for the apartment.

 

X

 

The entire pack, and pack adjacent members, were gathered in the living room of the apartment. Laura had pushed the coffee table to the side, opening up enough room for the chairs that Derek had carried up from his floor.

Derek and Stiles were sharing the loveseat, which Laura couldn’t wait to tease them about. Isaac was sandwiched between Erica and Scott on the couch, and he looked equal parts terrified and content. Peter was leaning against the arm of the couch, his eyes drifting between Isaac and the Sheriff every so often. The Sheriff and Melissa each took one of the chairs from Derek’s floor, and Laura sat on the edge of the coffee table that had been pushed to the side. Lydia was at the dining room table, ignoring everyone while she read and scribbled into a notebook.

Laura relished in the calm feeling she got from everyone being together, from being close, and safe, and happy. It felt right, and even the underlying sadness that she always felt during pack meetings couldn’t stop her from smiling.

“You broke into the morgue?” The Sheriff’s jaw dropped.

Laura sighed, the feeling was nice while it lasted.

“We didn’t _break in_.” Stiles rolled his eyes, “we were accompanied by a member of the hospital staff.”

“The door was also unlocked, which really is more of their security problem than ours.” Peter shrugged, throwing a grin towards the Sheriff.

“You went along with this, Mel?”

Melissa groaned, “Stiles put up a very compelling case, Noah.”

“We needed to see the body for ourselves before Gerard could get to it.” Derek said calmly, “We couldn’t let him get any information that we didn’t have.”

“And how did you know that Gerard was interested in this body?” The Sheriff asked.

Everyone shifted uncomfortably. No one wanted to be the one to tell him that they currently had a teenage girl embedded in an undercover operation that involved murder and now apparently drugs.

“We have our sources.” Peter said diplomatically.

“Your sources.” The Sheriff repeated skeptically, “And these are the same sources who told you that Gerard has someone on the force in his pocket.”

“Yes.” Peter said.

“And you won’t tell me who this source is because…”

“Plausible deniability,” Peter smiled, “what you don’t know can’t hurt you, and it also can’t get you involved in any nasty legal trouble. I know how fond you are of your morals after all.”

“Peter,” The Sheriff’s tone held an unspoken warning, “I am not in the mood for your bullsh-”

“Hey!” Laura growled, “We’re not here to argue with each other, we’re here to talk about what the hell is going on in this town. Noah, I’m sorry you’re being kept out of the loop on something, but it was my call. You’re already walking a line with helping us as it is now, I don’t want to compromise you on something else. I _promise_ that when it gets to a point that the law needs to intervene then I will tell you without hesitation, but for now I just ask that you trust _me_.”

The Sheriff waited a moment, but he eventually nodded in agreement, “You’re sure that this source of yours is trustworthy? I don’t want to start doubting any of my people without being entirely positive that there’s a reason for it.”

“Yes.” Laura answered immediately, “I trust the source of this information, there may be a miscommunication because it was a conversation that was overheard, but I honestly believe that there is someone in the department that’s on Gerard’s payroll.”

“Alright then, how do we go about figuring out who it is?” The Sheriff asked.

Laura smiled, “I have an idea, but I’ll talk to you about it before you leave.”

“OK.” He nodded, “Then let’s talk more about breaking into the morgue.”

“We didn’t break in!” Stiles cried, “Melissa, tell him we didn’t break in.”

Melissa raised both hands, “I’m staying out of this one.”

“The Bobby Hankins in the morgue was not Bobby Hankins.” Derek said, “It was something that was made to look and act like him, but there was nothing inside him.”

“How is that even possible…” The Sheriff trailed off, “Never mind, that was a dumb question, I’m sitting in a room full of werewolves. Continue.”

Lydia looked up from the page she was transcribing, “I’m still working on the translation of this text, but I’m fairly sure the body in the morgue was completely created by the Aswang.”

The Sheriff groaned, “OK, that I’m going to need an explanation on.”

Lydia put her pen behind her ear and flipped back a few pages in the notebook she’d been writing in, “The language in the original book is not ideal, but from what I’ve been able to translate so far, the Aswang has the ability to essentially make a doppelganger of their victims that returns home only to die of natural causes.”   

Melissa looked confused, “That doesn’t make sense, there are plenty of ways to find out if someone died from natural causes or not. All it would take is a single autopsy for someone to realize there was something seriously weird going on.”

“From my limited knowledge of the Aswang, they generally don’t hunt in such developed areas as ours, they mainly keep to smaller, less advanced communities.” Peter said, “If someone dies in a small village at the edge of a jungle, the chances of a place like that having a proper facility to examine a body are slim. It’s more likely that someone would look at the body, assume that the victim passed in their sleep, and they would bury them as soon as possible.”

“It’s probably why there’s so little information about them,” Lydia looked up from her notebook again, “Deaton has a literal library on supernatural creatures but only two of the books mention an Aswang and one of them isn’t even in English.”

“The hospital is in an uproar,” Melissa said, “the family is demanding to know how their son’s body could have deteriorated so rapidly, and so far the hospital’s only explanation has been that the cooler that was holding his body malfunctioned and the increased heat accelerated the decomposition.”

“Jesus,” the Sheriff whispered, “OK, that means that Bobby Hankins has been dead this entire time, which also means that the second kid that disappeared and came back is also dead and the body that’s currently walking around his home isn’t going to last much longer.”

Peter tipped his head to the side, “I’d estimate the body will give out before sunrise.”

“Dammit,” The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, “I honestly have no idea what to do about this.”

“There’s nothing we can do, we just have to take it as it goes.” Laura said honestly.

“That poor family…” The Sheriff trailed off, “I don’t know how I’m even going to be able to look them in the eye.”

“You lie,” Peter said, shrugging, “I can teach you, if you’d like.”

The Sheriff stood, running a hand through his hair, “Not now, Peter. I can’t…I need to get back to the station.”

Laura nodded, a small frown on her face, “I understand.”

“Just…come find me later, tell me about this plan you have.”

“OK.” Laura said, “I will.”

The Sheriff left, and Melissa hurried after him, muttering a few apologies before slipping out the front door and closing it behind herself.

“Thanks Peter,” Laura glared at him, “you really helped with that one.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “You people are going to give him whiplash. First you say you can’t tell him how you know things because you don’t want to open him up to any legal risks, but then you freely tell him about walking corpses and plans to cover up mysterious deaths. He’s either fully in this, or he isn’t. You’re not doing anyone any favors with this one foot in, one foot out nonsense.”

The entire room fell silent. Laura could hear the individual heartbeats of everyone in the room, it sounded like there was barely anyone breathing. Peter stood his ground though, his arms defiantly crossed as he stared at Laura intently. Laura stared back at him, unwilling to even blink to break the silent battle they were locked in.

“Tell me how you really feel.” Laura said.

Peter smiled, “The reason you won’t tell Noah about Allison’s little undercover adventure is because you know he’d have a fit. Any sane person would object to letting a teenage girl engage in a long-term undercover operation, especially when she’s embedding herself so deeply with someone like Gerard.”

“We all agreed not to tell him, Peter.” Stiles spoke up, “My dad is a good person, and sometimes he’s _too_ good.”

“Or maybe you don’t give him enough credit.”

“Excuse me?” Stiles stood from the couch, shaking off Derek’s attempt to pull him back down by the arm, “I give my dad more credit than anyone in this room.”

“Then you of all people should know that there’s no sense in not telling him about Allison’s involvement in all of this, it might have been fine when she didn’t have anything, but now these two worlds are coming together and it’s not fair to keep him out of the loop in one while giving him all the information about the other.”

Stiles deflated instantly, dropping back down on to the couch and letting his head fall backwards, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Laura cut him off, “Stiles is right, this isn’t what we’re here to talk about. We can figure out what to tell the Sheriff about Allison later, we’re supposed to be focusing on the most immediate threat.”

“I have a question.” Erica raised her hand, “It has nothing to do with the Sheriff or morals.”

Laura laughed softly, “What is it?”

“Why did it attack Lydia?” Erica leaned forward, “Are we assuming it was random, or what?”

“I’d like the know the answer to that too.” Lydia huffed, “The insurance company is up our ass, especially since this is the second car that I’ve had totaled in less than a year. They towed it to a shop to run their inspection on it, but I couldn’t exactly tell them I was attacked by a flying vampire.”

“What did you tell them?” Stiles asked.

“That I was coming around the curve and my breaks wouldn’t work, which is more or less the truth.” Lydia’s phone rang, she looked down at it and sighed, “Speak of the devil, I’ll be right back.”

Lydia answered the phone and walked out into the hallway, Laura tuned her out and turned back to the discussion in the living room.

“Maybe it was just taking advantage of the opportunity.” Derek offered, “Or it was intentionally following her, and it was trying to kill what it perceived as a threat.”

“Laura and I were with her all night, it could have attacked any of us if that was true.” Erica said.

“No, I think Derek’s right.” Laura drummed her fingers on the coffee table, “We’re werewolves, we’re naturally seen as a bigger threat. It might have been able to tell that Lydia was supernatural, but she presents less of a threat than an Alpha werewolf with one of her Betas.”

“OK, so the Aswang is trying to clear out its new territory of competition?” Stiles asked, “Is that what we’re going with?”

Laura looked up as she heard the front door open. Lydia walked back in, her face was pale and her heartbeat was unsteady. Her arm hung limply at her side, and she had a white-knuckle grip on her phone.

“Lydia? What’s wrong?” Laura got up and walked over to her.

“That was the insurance company, they finished the inspection.” Lydia swallowed deeply, “They said my brake lines showed signs that they had been tampered with.”

“Holy shit.” Isaac whispered, “Someone cut your brakes?”

Lydia shook her head, “No, they weren’t that dumb. My brakes were still working when I left the restaurant, so whoever messed with them weakened the integrity of them enough so that they would snap at some point when I was driving.”

“Do they think that they were like that for a while?” Laura asked.

“They’re pretty sure the lines were tampered with recently.”

Derek caught Laura’s eye across the room. She could see that they were both thinking the same thing, there was only one person that would do something like this. There was only one person that would be crazy enough to do something so blatantly obvious.

“Gerard.” Derek growled, “It had to be him.”

“That crazy old bastard.” Erica hissed, “I’m going to rip his stupid fucking head off of his stupid fucking neck and shove it up his stupid fucking ass.”

As far as Laura was concerned, this was the first act of war between the two parties. Gerard had kept a relatively low profile since coming back to Beacon Hills. He hadn’t done anything outwardly aggressive, but they knew he had been watching. It seemed like he was ready to start playing the game though, between what Allison had learned and now what happened to Lydia, Laura was ready to start too. And she wouldn’t hesitate to play dirty.

“New rule!” Laura clapped her hands together, “No one gets in their vehicle until we check them thoroughly. That includes your cars and any cars anyone close to you drives, I’m not taking any risks. If he did it to Lydia he’s liable to do it to someone else.”

Peter walked over to her, stopping just outside of arm’s length, “It seems our local hunter has gotten tired of waiting.”

“I guess so.” Laura looked at Peter and smiled, “You ready for whatever comes next?”

Peter grinned, “I suppose I’ll have to be.”

“You were right, by the way.” Laura said quickly, she had to force herself or she never would, “We shouldn’t keep anymore secrets from Noah, especially not if Gerard is ready to go after teenagers.”

Peter shrugged, “I am generally always right when it comes to these things, I’m glad you’re learning.”

Laura rolled her eyes, “Go away.”

Peter nodded, saluting her before turning on his heel, “Yes, Alpha.”

Laura looked over her shoulder and out of the large windows against the back wall of the apartment. The sky was painted a soft pink color, the sun was slowly sinking into the earth and giving everything a golden glazed look. Somewhere out there, Gerard Argent was planning something, and Laura figured it was time to start working on a plan of her own.

 

X

 

Allison looked up from her desk when she heard a door slam from somewhere outside. She got up and walked over to her window, sticking her head outside and found herself stunned when she saw her dad’s black SUV in the driveway. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple days according to what Gerard had said, but she was glad because now that her parents were home it meant that Gerard wouldn’t be paying as much attention to her as he had been.

She pulled her head back inside and closed the window, locking it before she left her room and made her way downstairs. The front door was already open, she slipped her shoes on and walked outside, she looked around the corner and found her dad and Gerard standing close together and whispering heatedly.

“Dad?” Allison called out as she rounded the corner.

Gerard and her dad both stopped talking immediately. Her dad stepped away from Gerard and walked towards her, holding out his arms for a hug. Allison was confused, but she gave her dad a hug anyway. He pulled her close, squeezing her tighter than he had in a long time. She opened her eyes to see Gerard staring at them, and then he turned away and walked over to the trunk of the SUV.

She didn’t see anyone else outside, and there was no one inside the car.

“Dad?” Allison asked again, “Where’s mom?”

Her dad’s face fell immediately, “Allison…”

Allison took a step backwards, a sudden sense of panic welling up inside her chest, “Dad, where is mom?”

“I’m sorry, Allison.” Her dad’s face was completely blank now, “Something happened…your mother…”

“What happened?” Allison asked, her voice coming out barely above a whisper.

“She’s dead.”

Allison felt the blood rush to her head. She could hear the sound of her pulse in her ears, hammering at her skull. She took another step backwards, and then another until she was standing with her back against the house itself. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t be actually happening. She…she couldn’t be gone. They hadn’t even gotten past the rift that formed between them after Kate’s death, Allison was planning on trying to fix their relationship after she got back but now…

“How?” Allison rasped, “How did it happen?”

“Allison now isn’t the-”

“Tell me!” Allison cut him off.

Her dad sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, “We were on our way back home and we were outside LA when we got a tip about a rogue Omega who was moving through the area and attacking kids who were out camping. We were close by, so your mother thought we should step in and help, we tracked it down and there was a fight.”

“It killed her?” Allison asked, she needed to know.

“Your mother chased it into the woods, she pulled her gun on it and tried to shoot but it overpowered her. There was a struggle and the gun went off…”

“Oh my god.” Allison whispered, “Where were you?”

“We split up to track it,” he sighed, “we thought we could handle a single Omega ourselves.”

“She was killed by her own gun?” Allison could barely believe it, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I’m sorry,” he broke down, tears spilling from his eyes, “I wasn’t with her when I should have been, I found her and…”

“When did this happen?” Allison asked.

“Last week.”

“Last week?” Allison exploded, “Mom has been dead for an entire week and you’re just now telling me?”

“I couldn’t come back until I found the Omega who killed her!” Her dad yelled, “I spent a week tracking that son of a bitch through the woods until I found him and killed him. He had the audacity to tell me I didn’t even know what I was talking about, that he wasn’t the one who killed her. I wanted to tell you when I talked to you last, but when I tried to tell you the signal went out on the call and I figured it was a sign.”

Allison’s breath caught in her throat. She looked over her dad’s shoulder to see Gerard watching them, when he noticed Allison looking he turned his back to her and continued unloading the SUV.

“Mom died before the earthquake?” Allison asked slowly.

“What?” Her dad looked confused.

“You said you wanted to tell me the last time we talked on the phone,” Allison repeated his words to him, dropping her voice so Gerard wouldn’t overhear, “the last time we talked was a few hours before that quake hit Beacon Hills. You’re telling me mom was already dead then?”

Her dad nodded, “I guess, yeah. It had been two days when I talked to you on the phone. I’m so sorry, Allison.”

Gerard said he talked to her mother earlier during the day of the earthquake, but she’d been dead for two days by that point. Allison knew her dad had no reason to lie about the timeline, but Allison knew that Gerard would have more than a few reasons.

Especially if he was the one who arranged it.

Allison’s vision went white. She couldn’t see her dad standing in front of her, she couldn’t see anything except for Gerard’s back as he pulled a duffel bag out of the car. She wanted to walk over there and snap his fucking neck before he could say another damn word. She didn’t know how she’d even be able to stand being in the same room with him now.

“I have to go.” Allison whispered, walking back into the house to grab her keys.

“Allison!” Her dad yelled after her, “Allison, please don’t.”

He was still standing in the driveway when Allison came out with her keys and her wallet in her hand. Her dad was trying to block the door to her car, but Gerard walked over and wrapped his hand around her dad’s wrist.

“Let her go, Chris.” Gerard said softly, “She needs to take time to process this on her own. I hate that this happened, but now she sees the kind of monster that these creatures are. They don’t even need their teeth or their claws to kill us anymore.”

It took all of Allison’s willpower not to shove the knife in her back pocket into Gerard’s throat.

Allison saw the real monster, and it was standing right in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm getting my wisdom teeth taken out tomorrow so enjoy this update cuz i'll be sedated by 9 in the morning lol


	7. The Best Policy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to crimsonette for making me realized i used "took a deep breath" about 15 times in the pre-beta'd version of this chapter lmao

Chapter Seven

The Best Policy

 

The forest was calm. Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he tried to block out everything around him until the only sounds he heard were the chirping of early morning birds, and Derek’s slow and measured breathing in front of him. He shifted slightly, redistributing his weight on the rubber yoga mat beneath his feet as he watched the way Derek’s muscles rippled under his skin as he stretched.

Honestly, it was totally unfair that Derek did the whole yoga Zen thing while shirtless.

Derek opened his eyes, exhaling softly, “Alright, now follow me slowly into half moon pose.”

Stiles watched as Derek angled his left foot to the side like a club and then extended his right leg out to the side entirely. Derek then leaned sideway, pressing the fingertips of his left hand onto the mat to steady himself while he extended his right arm vertically.

The end result was a one-legged Derek looking like a sexy pretzel.

Stiles copied Derek’s movements, though he was sure he didn’t look nearly as elegant as Derek did it. Where Derek moved into position swiftly, Stiles took a few extra seconds of wobbling and steadying himself before he felt stable enough to relax.

They’d resumed their morning yoga sessions ever since Stiles’ leg was fully healed. They tried a modified version of it once when Stiles was still in the cast, but it failed miserably and they both agreed to never talk about it again.

Stiles was shocked with how much he’d improved over the last few months, he wasn’t anywhere near Derek’s level, but he was constantly amazing himself at how easily he was able to center himself and find balance. It was one of the only times Stiles’ brain naturally quieted itself, everything else seemed to melt away except for himself and Derek.

He inhaled and exhaled in measured beats as he held the pose, and he let his magic unfurl in his chest as he leaned sideways. It was another advantage of the yoga that he hadn’t expected, but the magic inside of him seemed to respond to the yoga as well.

Peter said it was something about balance and chakra when Stiles asked, he’d also said Mariska started every morning with meditation and yoga. Stiles wasn’t sure he could commit to every morning, but a few days a week with Derek were more than doable.

Derek let out another breath and straightened himself. Stiles copied him, cocking his neck to the side to work out a small crick of muscle. Derek stared at him for a few seconds, and then smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Stiles asked, looking over his shoulder to see if he was missing something.

“Nothing funny, it’s just nice being out here with you.” Derek said.

Stiles smiled, “Oh. Well. Ditto.”

Derek rolled his eyes and dropped to the ground, swinging his legs in front of him in one fluid motion. Stiles followed his lead, though less fluidly. Derek stretched forward, grabbing on to the end of his feet and staying like that for a few seconds. When he released the hold, he looked at Stiles and nodded.

“OK, follow me into boat pose.”

Derek leaned back slightly, and then lifted his legs until they were off the ground and his body was forming a 60-degree angle. Derek stretched his arms forward, his hands reaching out for his toes but never connecting. Derek’s breathing was steady, no sign of strain from what had to be a killer core workout.

“Really?” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

Derek rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips, “It’s not that hard, you can do it.”

“Fine, fine.” Stiles relented.

Stiles lifted his legs from the mat, attempting to hold them at roughly the same angle as Derek’s. Derek wasn’t watching him; his eyes were closed as he held his pose. Stiles watched him for a few seconds, counting Derek’s breaths as he watched the rise and fall of his chest. When it felt like his legs weren’t burning anymore, Stiles lifted his arms and stretched them towards his feet. He let out a small whimper, one he was sure Derek heard, when the lower part of his stomach protested. He could feel the burn in his excuse for abs, but he pushed himself through the pain until he was matching Derek’s pose.

Derek cracked open an eye and looked at him, “I told you it wasn’t that hard.”

Stiles wanted to bite back with a reply, but he was certain that if he opened his mouth his body would crumble under the pressure of the pose. Which might have been Derek’s grand plan all along.

Derek lowered his legs, and Stiles took it as his cue to do the same. He fell back, stretching his arms above his head as he heard Derek push himself up from the ground. Stiles didn’t want to move, content to lay out on his yoga mat until someone forced him to move.

“Don’t you look comfortable.”

Stiles groaned, apparently that someone was already here. He opened his eyes to find Peter looming above him, bent over with an amused glint in his eye.

“I was supposed to have more time to rest.” Stiles groaned again, seriously considering clawing out his eyes to get out of this.

“No such luck,” Peter shrugged, “I thought I’d surprise you early, someone has to keep you on your toes.”

Stiles sat up and glared at Derek, “You could have at least warned me that you heard him coming.”

Derek reached down, pulling Stiles up with one arm once he grabbed his hand, “You were supposed to be using your magic to sense him.”

“Oh.” Stiles blinked, “Shit. I forgot.”

“You’ll never learn that way.” Peter tutted, “Mariska used to make Talia blindfold her, drop her off at a random point in the woods, just so she could learn to hone the sixth sense that came with her magic by finding her way back home.”

Stiles knew Peter was just talking, but it didn’t stop the panic from flaring in his chest. All he could think about was being taken by Jennifer, brought out into the middle of the woods, and then coming back to himself alone and powerless. His heart was hammering in his chest, he could see both Peter and Derek react to the sudden sound, and he saw the way Peter’s eyes widened when he’d realized what was happening.

The color was bleeding out from the world, grayscale replacing the green of the leaves on the tree. His skin felt cold, he could feel the cold embrace of darkness circling around him. He looked down at his wrists, at the jagged scars left behind in Jennifer’s wake, and he could swear for a second that they started to burn.

“Hey,” Derek said softly, “Stiles. Look at me.”

Stiles forced his gaze to Derek, ripping his eyes away from the scars on his wrists. Derek’s eyes were soft, light from the afternoon sun reflecting in them. He nodded and smiled once he made eye contact with Stiles.

“You’re ok, you’re here with us.” Derek said, pressing his hand softly against Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles leaned into the touch, letting the feeling of Derek’s hand on his skin ground him. He took a deep shuddering breath, held it in for a few seconds, and then released it. He sagged forward, resting his forehead against Derek’s bare shoulder. Derek’s hand fell to his back, rubbing soothing circles in the space between his shoulder blades.

“Shit,” Stiles whispered, “sorry.”

Peter was hovering on the fringes of the clearing, having jumped away at the sign of Stiles’ discomfort, “Stiles, I’m…”

Stiles shook his head, “It’s not your fault.”

“I should have thought before I spoke.” Peter protested.

“Peter,” Derek’s voice was firm, “he said it wasn’t your fault.”

Stiles was glad Derek was there, he didn’t want Peter beating himself up over this. It wasn’t Peter’s fault, it could have been anything that caused Stiles to freak out. He’d gone a few weeks without an episode, and he couldn’t deny that he’d spent those few weeks waiting for the other shoe to drop. At least it was over with now.

“We can reschedule.” Peter said.

Stiles shook his head, “No, you’re right. I need to work on things, I need to get better if I want to do more than float stuff and set rocks on fire.”

“Do you want me to stay?” Derek asked, leaning back and grabbing the shirt he’d draped over a low hanging branch.

“No, you have stuff to do.” Stiles smiled, patting Derek on his chest, “Go make sure Laura doesn’t give my dad an aneurism.” 

“You sure?” Derek asked.

Stiles laughed, “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”

Derek looked at him for a few more seconds before nodding. He pulled the shirt over his head and bent down to pick up the bag he’d brought with him from the car. He hesitated for one more second, but Stiles rolled his eyes and gently pushed him towards the path back to the car.

“Call me when you’re done?” Derek asked.

Stiles leaned in and kissed him, “I’m coming over to the apartment after we’re done here anyway, so I’ll see you then.”

Derek nodded, kissing him one more time, “OK. Be safe.”

Stiles smiled, watched Derek disappear down the trail they’d made together a few months back, and then spun on his heel to face Peter.

And Isaac, apparently.

“Oh,” Stiles said, a little stunned, “Uh, hey. I didn’t see you there.”

Isaac flushed, “Sorry. Peter said it was fine if I came but I can go. I’m sorry.”

Stiles was embarrassed beyond belief that Isaac had apparently seen him freak out like that, but Isaac looked mortified over the idea that he’d shown up somewhere he wasn’t wanted. It helped sooth Stiles’ bruised ego, and the last thing he wanted to do was make Isaac feel unwelcomed.

He put on his best smile, closed his eyes and just breathed, and felt the magic unfurl in his chest. He opened his eyes and searched the ground for a few small stones, when he found a few that he liked he held out his hand, waggling his fingers until his magic latched onto them and pulled them up from the ground.

The stones danced through the air, swooping in small circles as they moved towards Isaac. Isaac watched them with wide eyes, tracking them as they bounced around the space in front of him. Stiles laughed, stopping them in a straight line just in front of the hand that Isaac had reached out. Isaac turned his palm up, so Stiles lowered the three stones into his hand one by one.

“Welcome to the magic show.” Stiles smiled, biting back a laugh as he looked at Isaac’s open-mouthed expression.

“Holy shit, that’s so cool.” Isaac whispered, “I’ve never seen you do it up close before.”

Stiles thought back to all the times he’d used his magic around Isaac, he’d been to a few training sessions, but he always hung back in the distance.

“Typical,” Peter rolled his eyes, “I can grow teeth and claws, but Isaac is more impressed by the boy who can float stuff in the air.”

“Hey!” Stiles protested, “I can do more than just float stuff in the air.”

Sure, that seemed to be Stiles’ go-to method of magic use, but that was just because it was the easiest way to manifest it. It was one of the only things he’d found so far that didn’t take at least an extra second of preparation.

“Show me then,” Peter challenged, “let’s see what you can do.”

“You sure you want to go there?” Stiles grinned, turning his head up in a challenge.

Peter crossed his arms over his chest and deadpanned, “Don’t act tough because you have an audience, Stiles.”

Isaac’s eyes were darting between the two of them.

“Hey, Isaac?” Stiles called out, “You want to see me kick Peter’s ass?”

Isaac hesitated, “Um…sure?”

Peter laughed, a growl slipping out just before his face shifted, “Oh, game on.”

Stiles rubbed his hands together, inhaling deeply as the euphoric feeling of his magic rushing through his body washed over him. He could feel the power flowing from the tips of his fingers, down his arms, through his chest, and to the soles of his feet.

This was going to be fun.

 

X

 

Derek made it to the diner at almost the exact moment as Laura. He maneuvered his SUV into the parking spot next to her, killing the engine and letting himself out of the hulking vehicle. It was funny to see them next to each other, the two cars couldn’t be anymore different from each other.

He used to think someday he’d inherit Laura’s Camaro, but that was a long time ago. Derek had stopped wondering about when he was going to get a car after they’d left Beacon Hills. It felt like a luxury that they’d even had the Camaro left, and he’d never had a need for his own car anyway.

The day he went to the dealership outside of town to pick out his own car wasn’t as exciting as he’d always thought it would be. It might have been because he was picking out his first car at 22, not 16. He’d gotten the SUV because it was practical, it could almost fit the entire pack, and Derek would be lying if he said he didn’t think about possibly having to use the SUV as a moving weapon in a fight someday.

He’d rather run over a rogue Omega with an SUV over a Camaro.

“How was yoga?” Laura asked, slamming the door of the Camaro, and leaning against it.

“Good. Relaxing.” Derek said, “Peter showed up, so they’re working on magic stuff.”

Derek still didn’t really understand how any of Stiles’ magic worked, but he did think it was cool when he did it. He was hesitant about Peter helping Stiles at first, but he’d seen an improvement over the control and power of the things Stiles was able to do since they’d started working together. Everyone assumed that Deaton would be the logical choice to teach Stiles, including Deaton himself, but Peter’s years with Mariska and all the history that he’d studied made him an almost invaluable teacher for Stiles. Peter couldn’t do magic himself, but he understood it in a way that no one else that Derek knew did, and that meant more when it came to teaching Stiles to harness and control his power.   


“Which one do you think is going to come home angry and annoyed this time?” Laura asked.

Derek shrugged, “I think they’ll both be in a good mood after this one. Peter’s gonna be on his best behavior.”

Derek didn’t want to tell Laura about Stiles’ moment in the woods. It was personal, and Derek knew that Stiles thought that people would think of him as a liability because of it. Derek had tried to tell him a million times over that no one would think any less of him because of it, but Stiles just shook it off and changed the subject. He hoped that Stiles was at least talking to Dr. Morrell about it.

The Sheriff’s cruiser pulled into the parking lot, sliding into the final spot open near Derek and Laura’s vehicles. The Sheriff nodded at them in greeting as he walked around the back of the cruiser and stopped next to the Camaro. He looked tired, frazzled, and the knot of tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

“Noah?” Laura asked, and it must be serious if she was using his first name.

“The other kid is dead,” The Sheriff sighed, “Or, I guess the body stopped working.”

“Shit.” Laura hissed, “When?”

“I just got the call, so sometime within the last hour or so.”

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face. This was probably the worst day to tell him anymore major news, but it was now or never.

“What happens next?” Derek asked.

The Sheriff shrugged, “That’s not for me to decide. The medical examiner at the scene pronounced the death as a natural cause, so it’s up to the family to decide if they want an autopsy. They’re more frantic than the Hankins’, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they want one done as soon as possible.”

“If they cut that body open and find out there’s nothing inside…”

“Believe me, I’ve already thought about that.” The Sheriff huffed out a laugh, “This town will be swarming with god knows what kind of federal agencies trying to get to the bottom of this.”

“We’re still waiting on Deaton to come through with whatever he needed to help Stiles make something to help identify the Aswang.” Laura said, “Until then we’re doing nightly patrols through the town and the preserve.”

“I hope you’re not sending the kids out by themselves.” The Sheriff said.

“Of course not,” Laura said automatically, “We’re in pairs of two, and someone is always with either me, Derek, or Peter.”

“Peter?” The Sheriff laughed, “Oh god, maybe they’d be safer out by themselves.”

“Peter would never let any of them get hurt.” Derek said, surprising himself at how quickly he jumped to Peter’s defense, “I know he’s…Peter, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone in the pack on purpose.”

The Sheriff scrubbed a hand over his face, “Shit. Sorry. I know Peter wouldn’t, I’m just dealing with a lot and I’m letting old feelings slip through.”

“You really didn’t like Uncle Peter in high school?” Laura asked.

Derek still couldn’t get over the fact that the Sheriff and Peter had gone to school together. Sure, they were separated by a few years, the Sheriff being two years ahead of Peter, but it still felt like such a small world kind of thing. Who would have thought that years before Laura, Derek, Cora, or anyone else were a thought in their parents’ mind, their family members would be going to school with someone who would become an important part of their pack years and years later?

“I didn’t _not_ not like him,” The Sheriff sighed, “It’s complicated, and it’s not something I’d particularly like to talk about now. Or ever.”

Derek and Laura both silently nodded in acknowledgement. Derek dropped the subject immediately, he could forgive the Sheriff for being a little snippy. He was on edge, he had a lot to deal with, and Derek and Laura were about to throw even more onto his plate.

They made their way into the diner, taking a seat at one of the booths in the far back corner. The Sheriff smiled and made small talk with several people on the way to their table. It had taken a few weeks for the strange looks to wear off when people saw the three of them together. It must have seemed strange for the people of the town to see the Sheriff have semi-regular lunches with people he’d arrested and suspected for murder, but the grapevine in Beacon Hills grew so quickly that it became yesterday’s news.

The waitress took their orders, dashing off only to return a few moments later with a cup of coffee for the Sheriff and two glasses of water for Laura and Derek.

“We did some thinking since the last meeting, and I think we were wrong to try and keep you out of the loop for certain things under the pretense of protection.” Laura started off.

“Oh?” The Sheriff said behind the rim of his mug.

Laura nodded, “It’s not right to cherry-pick when we tell you things. You’ve been invaluable to us since this whole thing began, and I trust you like you’re a member of my own family.  So, from here on out, everything is an open book to you if you want to know it.”

The Sheriff sat his mug down on the table, he was unable to conceal the look of surprise on his face, “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but where did the change of heart come from?”

Derek chuckled, “Funnily enough, it was Peter.”

“Peter?” The Sheriff asked incredulously, “Really?”

“He made a compelling argument on your behalf.” Derek nodded, “It was very passionate.”

“Idiot.” The Sheriff mumbled, “Listen, I understand why you were trying to keep me out of things, I appreciate it for the most part, or at least my conscience appreciates it. But when it comes to things like what you told me about my department then I think I have the right to know the full story.”

“You’re right, you do.” Laura agreed, “Allison was the person who told us about a possible leak in the department.”

The look on the Sheriff’s face told Derek and Laura that those were the last words he’d expected to come out of Laura’s mouth.

“Allison?” The Sheriff blinked, “I’m confused. The last I knew about Allison Argent was that she wasn’t a part of your pack, and she’d quote-unquote defected back to the bitch ass hunter side.”

Derek choked on a surprised laugh.

“Those were Stiles’ words, not mine. Obviously.”

Obviously.

Laura clenched her fists and readied herself, “She’s working undercover to take Gerard down from the inside.”

The Sheriff gave them both an unreadable look, turned his head, and stared out the glass window next to him. The silence went on just long enough to seem awkward before the Sheriff turned back to look at them from across the booth.

“Did I hear that correctly? Did you just tell me that a sixteen-year-old girl is running an undercover sting operation? By herself?”

“You see why we didn’t want to tell you.”

“Because you knew I would tell you how terrible of an idea that was.” The Sheriff hissed in a whisper, “I did _not_ expect this.”

“It all happened quickly.” Derek tried to explain, “Gerard came back so suddenly, he didn’t seem to be leaving, so Allison came up with her plan and told us afterwards. She was going to do this with or without us, and it seemed like the safer option for her to have backup if she really needed it.”

“The teenagers in this town are fucking stupid.” The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know they’re your pack members, and your boyfriend, and my kid…but they’re really, really, really stupid.”

“Be that as it may, there’s no going back now.” Laura said, stopping mid-sentence as their waitress brought their food to the table, she continued after the woman left, “She’s given up good leads, tips, and we know more than we ever would if Gerard was just here on his own running around doing god knows what.”

The Sheriff sighed again, and he’d heard that particular one enough to know exactly what it meant. The sheriff was resigned to the situation, he didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could do now except go along with it and use whatever information Allison found to his advantage.

“And Allison is where this information about the department came from?” The Sheriff asked.

“Stiles and I met with her outside of town the other day, she overheard Gerard on the phone and he referred to the person on the other end of the line as deputy. He said something about understanding the price the information he’d gotten cost him.”

“That was how Gerard knew the body was at the morgue,” The sheriff put the pieces together, “and it’s why you had to get to it before him.”

“Which actually worked out better for us, because if we hadn’t gone to the morgue then we would have no idea what we were looking for.” Laura said.

The Sheriff’s eyes darted between them, “I feel like there’s something else you’re not telling me.”

Derek had to laugh silently, it was almost impossible to sneak anything past the Sheriff now. He was damn good at his job.

“There is one more thing that might fall more on your side of the line than ours…” Derek trailed off, “Allison is pretty sure Gerard is involved in some kind of drug trafficking.”

The Sheriff choked on the coffee he was drinking, “ _What?”_

“She found drugs in his vehicle, and Gerard has a ledger that he keeps records of transactions in, there’s one happening in the warehouse district twelve days from now.” Laura said, “We know the location.”

The Sheriff rubbed both eyes with his hands, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes, and let his head fall to the back of the booth. He didn’t say anything, he just kept shaking his head until a small laugh bubbled up from inside him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” The Sheriff said, “I can deal with supernatural crap, but now you’re telling me that Beacon Hills is going to be the site of a major drug deal? We’ve never had a problem with drugs here, the worst was a few years back when we found someone growing pot out in the preserve. What kind of drugs is Gerard even on? He’s like eighty years old for crying out loud!”

“Cocaine” Derek said, matter-of-factly, “Though Allison doesn’t think he’s actually doing the drugs himself, he’s just selling them for money.”

“Because that makes it better.” The Sheriff scoffed, “Alright, I let you kids focus on the supernatural side of things, but a drug bust is firmly in my territory and I don’t want you two or _anyone_ else involving yourself in it. Do you understand me?”

“I’m perfectly fine leaving the drug angle to you, but how can you even investigate this if your department is corrupted somehow? If Gerard finds out you know about the deal, he’ll have to wonder how you got that information and then it puts Allison at risk.” Derek said.

He was sure the Sheriff had already thought about it, and he would never tell him how to do his job, but Derek just felt like it was something that should be pointed out.

“I’ll figure that out,” the Sheriff said, “there are deputies that I know would never betray me, I can work with them off the books.”

“I might have a better idea,” Laura raised her hand slightly, “I’ve been thinking about this ever since Allison told us actually.”

“OK.” The Sheriff nodded, “Continue.”

Laura calmly smiled, “You should hire me.”

“What?” Derek and the Sheriff said in unison.

“You’ve been asking me about it for months,” Laura shrugged, “I think I’m ready to protect and serve.”

The Sheriff arched a dubious eyebrow, “I think you’d make a great addition to the force, but it’s not as simple as you just walking in and throwing on a uniform. You have to pass training courses, become weapon certified, it’s a lengthy process.”

Laura nodded, “I know, I’ve studied all of this. I’m aware, I’m not saying you bring me in as a deputy, think of me as like an…unpaid intern!”

“Elaborate.” The Sheriff propped his elbow up on the table and rested his chin on his hand.

“I graduated top of my class at NYU, I’m probably more qualified than some of the guys who are already on the force, no offence, so it wouldn’t be that big of a stretch to think that maybe you’re trying to woo me into a job.”

“Woo you?” The Sheriff repeated, “Really?”

“I’ll be your shadow for two weeks, you can tell everyone that I’m thinking of joining but it’s been so long since I graduated that I wanted to see how things happen in the real world and not in a text book. I’ll have a reason to be in the station every day, and you’ll have a walking lie detector who can casually interrogate all of your deputies.”

This was the first time Derek was hearing about this plan. He was a little hurt that Laura hadn’t run it by him first, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Maybe she thought he’d try to talk her out of it.

“And if Gerard’s mole knows about werewolves, then he’ll know what you are immediately.” Derek pointed out, “Not to mention the fact that even if they don’t know you’re a werewolf, they would probably tell Gerard that you’ve joined the team anyway.”

It seemed too risky to Derek.

“Good, then it will make them scared.” Laura grinned, “And scared criminals get sloppy, and sloppy criminals-”

The Sheriff cut Laura off, “Sloppy criminals get caught.”

“Exactly.” Laura winked, pointing at the Sheriff.

“It sounds dangerous.” Derek said, “I don’t like it.”

Laura turned to him and frowned, “Everything we do is dangerous, Der.”

“I know, but I’m normally with you. I can help protect you every other time.” Derek argued.

“Derek, it’s not like someone is going to shoot me in the middle of the Sheriff’s station.” Laura smiled softly, “Besides, you’ll be right across the street from me most of the time anyway.”

“And I’ll be there.” The Sheriff nodded.

Laura’s head swung towards him, “That means you agree to this plan, right?”

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, “Yes, Laura. I expect you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Derek leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as Laura and the Sheriff talked more about Laura’s plan. He didn’t like it, and he liked even less the fact that he couldn’t figure out why he didn’t like it.

 

X

 

Scott laid back in bed, his arms behind his head as his favorite album thumped through his headphones. His eyes were closed, the lights were off, and his mom wasn’t at home. It was the perfect time to relax without having to worry about anything, especially werewolf problems. The pounding music in his ears helped clear his head, the bass of the music chased away all thoughts of Allison and how much he missed her.

He understood why she was doing what she was, but that didn’t stop him from missing her any less. It hurt even more when he got to see his friends being happy with the people they were with. Stiles had Derek, Erica had Boyd, and hell, Laura even had Deputy Parrish.

A dull thump came from the direction of his bedroom window. Scott tensed automatically, it was a conditioned response from some of the shit they’d been through. The music was still blasting, but Scott was keenly aware that there was sound coming from somewhere else in his house. He was the only one home, there wasn’t supposed to be any other sounds in the house.

He deliberately inhaled through his nose and he all but gasped. It was a scent he’d recognize anywhere. His eyes flew open, glowing gold in the darkness of his room.

“Allison?” Scott tore the headphones from his ears, tossing them to the side along with the phone they were connected to.

He sprung off the bed, wobbling as he made it to his feet. Allison was on the other side of the room with her back to him, his bedroom window was open which meant that she must have crawled in through it. Her heart was racing, he could smell a salty tinge of sweat mixed with the earthy aroma of dirt, like she’d just been running in the woods. She closed the window, locked it, and turned around to face him. Scott could immediately see the rims of red around her eyes, and the salty scent in the air made a lot more sense.

“Allison? What’s wrong?” Scott asked, concerned, “Why are you crying? Are you OK?”

Allison didn’t say anything, she just threw herself forward. She wrapped her arms around Scott’s body, the force of her impact sending them tumbling backwards towards the opposite wall of the bedroom. Scott was really glad his mom wasn’t home, she would have run upstairs to investigate that sound in an instant.

“Scott…” Allison gasped, and then she was wracked with sobs, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Scott stretched his left arm out, feeling across the wall to try and find the light switch. He was able to reach it with the tips of his fingers, and he flicked it on and filled the bedroom with a warm yellow light.

Allison took a step back, rubbing her hands over her red eyes. Her shoes were dirty, covered in a thick layer of dirt, but there didn’t seem to be anything else wrong with her. He didn’t smell blood, but he could smell something else. He couldn’t identify it, just like he couldn’t understand what would lead Allison to him. She’d been good, too good, at not contacting him for the past few months. Scott hadn’t heard from her once over that period, except for the night of the earthquake.

“Allison? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Scott asked, “Did something happen with Gerard?”

Allison let out a bitter laugh, and then she started to cry again, “It’s always Gerard.”

Scott pulled her forward gently, he sat on the edge of his bed and Allison followed him without saying anything. He turned to her, pulling her in for another hug. Her arms circled around him, and Scott pulled her close and let her cry against his shoulder. They stayed like that for a few more minutes until Allison let go of Scott, her breath shuddering, and closed her eyes.

Scott waited for her to talk.

“My mom is dead.” Allison said after an agonizing few seconds.

Her voice was flat, barely a hint of emotion in it. Scott recognized this Allison, it was the same Allison that had shown up after she shot Kate, the same Allison that had gone out into the woods with Laura to bury bodies. This was the person that Scott’s Allison, the beautiful, funny, amazing girl, turned to when she couldn’t be herself.

“Allison…” Scott said softly, resting his hand on top of hers, “What happened?”

Allison didn’t pull her hand away, “My dad said she was killed by an Omega, they tracked one down outside of LA and it got into a fight with my mom. Here’s the kicker, the Omega _shot_ her.”

Scott cocked his head to the side, “What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Allison laughed again mirthlessly, “My dad said they both fell to the ground, they were fighting over the gun and it went off. Of course, he wasn’t actually there to see that part, so I guess that’s what he has to think happened.”

“Think happened?” Scott asked, “What do you mean?”

“It was Gerard, he had someone do it. I know it was him.” Allison’s eyes hardened.

“Gerard?” Scott blinked, “Why would Gerard have your mom killed?”

“Because he’s a fucking psychopath!” Allison exploded, flaring with anger, “He told me the night of the earthquake that he’d just talked to my mom a few hours ago, but according to dad she was dead before the earthquake even hit us. He was out looking for the Omega that killed her when the earthquake hit Beacon Hills!”

Shit.

Scott didn’t know what else to say, so he pulled her close and kissed her forehead. She collapsed against him, breaking down into tears anew. She slammed her hand into the bed, dislodging the sheets from Scott’s mattress in the process. Scott didn’t stop her, she kept hitting the mattress, letting out frustrated screams of anger and sadness. Scott kept holding her, kept kissing her, kept trying to make sure she felt safe and knew that he was there for her.

“I just…I know she wasn’t perfect. I shouldn’t even be that sad, should I? She sided with Kate, and I killed Kate because of what she believed.” Allison whispered, “I know she believed what Kate did was justified, but I always thought that maybe I could change her mind. Maybe I could make her see that not everything was so black and white, that she didn’t have to think the way she did. Maybe I wouldn’t have been able to get through to her, but now I’ll never know.”

“She was your mom,” Scott said softly, “regardless of anything else, she was still your mom. She still loved you, you don’t have to feel guilty for being upset she’s gone. I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Allison. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Allison surged forward, kissing him with more heat than she’d ever kissed him with before. They fell back towards the bed, and Scott squirmed when he felt the tips of Allison’s fingers skim across the skin underneath his shirt. He’d imagined Allison doing that so many times, but now wasn’t the right time for either of them.

“Allison,” Scott said, mumbling against her lips, “Allison, not now.”

Allison stopped, looking up at him with wide eyes. She pulled her hands back abruptly, cradling them against her chest. She stood up from the bed and ran a hand through her disheveled hair.

“I…I should go.” Allison started to move towards the window.

“You can stay,” Scott said, “I don’t want you to be alone.”

Allison closed her eyes, took a few moments to recollected herself, and opened them again. They were hard, glazed over. The other Allison was back. The dangerous Allison.

The warrior Allison.

“I’ll be fine. I parked the car a few miles away and ran through the woods to get here, I need to make it back before anyone wonders where I’ve been for so long.”

She opened the window, and Scott jumped up from the bed and bounded across the room.

“I’m here, OK?” Scott said, “Any time you need anything.”

Allison nodded once, “Thank you, but we can’t. Not until Gerard is taken care of. I shouldn’t have even come here today.”

“I’m glad you did though.” Scott said automatically, “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

“Scott…” Allison trailed off.

Scott shook his head, leaning forward to kiss her and cut off whatever else she was about to say. They didn’t need to talk about anything else, about why it was probably a bad idea that she was even here in the first place. He just kissed Allison, soft and sweet, so she knew that he was there and that he cared about her.

Allison didn’t say anything else. She swung her legs up over the windowsill, took a few steps to the edge of the roof, jumped for the tree, and then climbed down the branches until she was standing in the backyard.

She didn’t stop or look back as she made her way to the edge of the tree line. Scott watched from the window until he could no longer hear or catch Allison’s scent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look forward to the comments!


	8. Three's Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really like this chapter lol

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

Three’s Company

 

The first time Erica went shopping with Lydia was a day that Erica would never forget. It had been two weeks after the bite before she’d felt comfortable enough in her control to go to a place as crowded as the mall, but Erica had spent those last two weeks looking at her closet with disdain. She’d hated the amount of over-large sweaters she had, the baggy pants, the t-shirts that swallowed her body whole.

She’d spent the previous years of her life hiding under the fabric, drowning herself in pools of cotton and denim to avoid being seen. She didn’t want to live like that anymore, she wouldn’t live like that anymore.

Lydia jumped at the chance to play personal stylist, she’d driven to Erica’s house within minutes of Erica sending her a text asking for her help, and they’d somehow managed to miss rush hour traffic on their way to the mall thanks in no small part to Lydia’s seemingly supernatural ability to hit only green lights.

When they made it to the mall, Erica followed Lydia inside and up to the front of one of the stores inside. It was the kind of store that Erica had always wanted to go into, but one that she never would have before. Lydia stepped to the side, snuck her way behind Erica, and dropped both of her hands on either of Erica’s shoulders.

Lydia squeezed gently, encouragingly, “Go find what makes you feel pretty.”

Erica hesitantly wandered into the shop, her fingers trailing over soft fabric, expensive looking lace, and smooth leather. It all looked good to her, so good that she almost had no idea where to start. She’d picked up a few blouses, several skirts, and a pair of jeans that looked so tight she didn’t think she’d fit in them.

Lydia looked over her selection with a critical eye before nodding and sending her off to the fitting room. Erica shed her oversized sweater and exchanged it for a top that exposed her shoulders, she swapped out her ripped jeans for a skirt that hugged the curves she didn’t even know she had.

Erica looked at her reflection and for the first time she saw someone she liked. Lydia nearly broke down the door after nearly ten minutes of silence, she’d found Erica sitting on the small bench with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

Lydia ended up buying all of Erica’s clothes while she changed as a surprise, and they tossed her old oversized sweater into the donation bin in the parking lot before they left.

Their shopping trips now were based on mutual understanding, along with complete and total unflinching honesty.

Lydia walked down the isle and then back towards Erica, resting her hands on her hips as she looked in the mirror, “Well?”

Erica chewed on her bottom lip as she looked at the boots Lydia was currently wearing. They were brown suede ankle boots, but they cut Lydia’s leg off at a weird angle. They weren’t right for her, and Erica would be a terrible friend if she let Lydia walk out of the store with them.

Erica shook her head, twisting a lock of her hair between her fingers, “No. Burn them. They make your calves look weird.”

“Dammit.” Lydia sighed, kicking the boots off and shoving them back into the box.

“I’m surprised I didn’t have to fight you on that.” Erica laughed, thinking about the way Lydia’s eyes lit up when she saw them sitting in the middle of the display.

“One of the strengths, of which there are many, is the ability to recognize that no matter how good something looks off me, it will not always look that good on me.” Lydia shrugged, resigned to let the boots slip through her grasp.

Lydia hung off to the side while Erica paid for her purchase, a new pair of combat boots that would do extremely well in the preserve. Erica was going to need new shoes if they were going to be spending their nights fighting flying monsters.

“Food?” Lydia asked, looking up from her phone as Erica walked over to her with her bag in hand.

“Please. I’m so hungry I could eat a baby.” Erica paused, cocking her head to the side, “Wait, no, that’s super fucked up.”

Lydia hummed a non-committal sound, “It’s Beacon Hills, I’m sure someone probably _has_ eaten a baby at some point.”

Erica huffed out a laugh and tried to not think about one of her creepy neighbors eating children. They walked past the car they’d left parallel parked just outside of the boutique and made their way down main street. They seemed to make an unspoken agreement that they would try the new fresh express salad place that everyone was raving about since they both stopped in front of the door to the restaurant without saying anything.

Erica paused with her hand on the door, the sound of footsteps and a familiar smell flooding her senses.

“Boyd?” Erica smiled, turning around to see Boyd standing a few feet away from her.

Boyd stared at her with a surprised look on his face, “How did you know it was me?”

Erica froze, she hadn’t realized she’d called out to him without even seeing his face. Her mind was at a blank, she stared at him and felt like a fish out of water, her mouth gaping open for breaths of fresh air.

“Your reflection in the glass.” Lydia pointed over her shoulder at the glass door to the restaurant.

Erica let out the breath she’d been holding in. She gave Lydia a grateful look, Lydia smiled slightly and then shrugged it off. Lydia was a genius, and Erica would tell everyone she met for the rest of her life.

“Oh.” Boyd said, eyeing the door dubiously.

“What’re you up to?” Erica asked, stepping closer to try and draw his attention.

Boyd started for a few moments, but he recovered and held up a handful of plastic shopping bags from the sporting goods store the next block over, “I’m trying out for lacrosse when school starts.”

“Oh!” Erica smiled, “That’s really cool, you’d be on the team with Scott, Stiles, and Isaac!”

“Are they any good?” Boyd asked, rubbing the back of his head.

A high-pitched sound caused Erica to look over her shoulder, she found Lydia smothering a surprised laugh.

Lydia took a deep breath, recollecting herself, “You won’t have any competition from at least one of them, trust me.”

Erica cackled as she thought back to the few times she’d helped Scott and Stiles practice over the summer. Scott was getting better, leaning into the natural athleticism that came from being a werewolf, but Stiles was still a walking tragedy that even magic couldn’t save.

“We’re just about to have lunch, you should join us!” Erica smiled, pointing at the restaurant behind them, “If you’re not busy.”

“Oh…” Boyd trailed off, “You’re with your friend, I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s fine.” Lydia said, a sincere smile on her face.

“You’ve met Lydia, right?” Erica asked, “Lydia, you’ve met _Boyd_.”

Erica added extra emphasis on Boyd’s name in case Lydia somehow hadn’t realized that this Boyd is the same Boyd that Erica had waxed poetic about for ten minutes while they were trying to decide which color heels would look best with the outfits they’d planned for the first day of school.

“Hi, Lydia.” Boyd said.

“Hello, Boyd.” Lydia nodded, “You’re welcome to join us if you’re hungry.”

Boyd’s eyes lingered on Erica for a few more seconds before he nodded, “Sure.”

Lydia opened the door, leading the way into the restaurant. Erica followed behind her, with Boyd bringing up the rear of their small group. Lydia claimed a table for them, close to the front of the restaurant and next to one of the large windows that looked outside. It was a beautiful day, so warm natural light streamed in and washed over the table.

Erica slid into the booth first, Lydia sliding in after her. Boyd sat across from Erica on the other side of the table, their feet knocking together as they settled in. Erica tried not to stare, but the way the sun was hitting the side of Boyd’s face made him look angelic.

She was startled out of her gaze by their waitress appearing, she took their drink orders and walked away after dropping off a few menus for them to look through. Erica opened hers, eyes strictly staying on the variety of dressings the menu offered instead of the way that Boyd’s eyes looked in the light.

“So, tell me about yourself.” Lydia said, looking at Boyd over the top of her menu.

“Um…” Boyd trailed off, “I moved here with my grandparents and my sister a few months ago.”

Lydia hummed, “How do you like Beacon Hills?”

“It’s nice?” Boyd cocked his head to the side, “I mean, I guess it’s nice that I moved here after all those murders.”

Erica sucked in a surprised breath, she saw Lydia watching her out of the corner of her eye. This was the only thing she hated about talking with Boyd, the need to lie to him. Erica liked him, she didn’t want to start off with lies.

“Yes, you missed all the fun.” Lydia deadpanned, “It was very exciting having a serial killer for a chemistry teacher.”

“Shit.” Boyd mumbled, “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

Lydia waved away his apology, “It’s fine, she was batshit crazy and now she’s dead so there’s nothing to worry about anymore.”

“Yeah.” Erica smiled, a little too tightly, “Beacon Hills is as safe as can be.”

“Except for those people who were killed in the woods a bit ago.” Boyd pointed out.

“Mountain lions.” Erica and Lydia said at the same time.

Boyd’s eyebrows rose, his eyes darting between the two of them.

“Mountain lions are very active in California.” Lydia said, as if she was reading from a book, “They make up a startling percentage of pedestrian and pet deaths.”

“Yeah,” Erica said, “Beacon Hills is totally safe, just don’t walk around in the woods alone.”

Boyd huffed out a laugh, “I wasn’t planning on it, but thanks for the advice.”

Erica smiled, she opened her mouth to reply, but stopped when she saw an odd flash of light across Boyd’s face. She looked at him curiously, narrowing her eyes as it flashed again. It was like light reflecting off a mirror. She looked out the window and saw someone standing across the street from the restaurant, a guy with a professional looking camera held in front of his face.

The light flashed again, it must have been from the lens of the camera. Erica almost ignored it, but she heard the dull click of the camera across the street taking a picture. Her head snapped to the side, and she saw the guy’s face just as he lowered the camera.

Her eyes went wide. It was the same creepy guy that was checking out Lydia the other night at the restaurant.

“Erica?” Lydia asked, tapping her on the shoulder.

“That guy out there,” Erica said, not taking her eyes off him, “that’s the same guy from dinner the other night.”

“Who?” Boyd asked.

“Wait.” She could feel Lydia moving beside her, “ _That_ was who was staring at me all night?”

“You know him?” Boyd asked, watching the guy with a careful eye.

“That’s Matt Daehler.” Lydia said, “He’s on the staff for the yearbook, he asked me out a few weeks ago but I turned him down.”

Another snap of the camera echoed in Erica’s ears.

“And now he’s following you and taking our pictures?” Erica arched an eyebrow.

She watched Matt from the window, their eyes locked and he took a step backwards. He stumbled, bracing himself against the wall of the bakery he was standing in front of. He quickly lowered his camera, slipping the strap around his neck and turning quickly to walk away.

Erica decided she didn’t like it, and she was going to do something about it.

“Lydia, let me out.”

Lydia looked at her, “Erica.”

“Lydia.” Erica said, her voice carefully calm, “Please let me out of the booth.”

“Are you going to do something stupid?” Lydia asked patiently.

She looked across the table at Boyd and smiled, “Of course not.”

Lydia sighed, she relented and slid out of the booth. She waved her arm for Erica to follow her, and Erica was on her feet and out the door quickly after.

Matt was only a few feet away from where she’d last seen him. His back was to her, but he wasn’t moving very quickly.

“Hey!” Erica called out, “Hey, Matt!”

Matt stopped, turning slowly, “Um? Do I know you?”

“You tell me.” Erica crossed her arms over her chest.

“No?” Matt looked confused, and Erica didn’t buy it.

“If you don’t know me, then why are you taking pictures of me and my friends?” Erica asked, taking a step forward.

Matt took a step backwards, “I…I wasn’t.”

Erica grinned as his heart skipped a beat.

“Liar.”

“I wasn’t. I promise.”

Erica smiled at him, a predator, “Just like you weren’t following Lydia? Just like you didn’t spend all night staring at her the other night when we were out at dinner?”

“Lydia?” Matt asked, “What the hell is going on?”

“Hello, Matt.” Lydia said, stepping up behind Erica.

“Is there a problem here?” Boyd asked, sliding up next to Erica.

“I don’t know.” Erica said, glaring at Matt, “Is there?”

Matt shook his head, “No. I was…I was just leaving.”

“Good.” Erica said, giving him one last glare before turning on her heel and walking away from him.

Boyd and Lydia followed behind her, and Erica would have been perfectly happy to leave it at that.

Except.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

Erica paused, balling her hands into fists.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

She felt the anger inside herself rising, burning her up as it bubbled to the surface. She felt it through her limbs, down her spine, even in her feet. She couldn’t stop herself as she turned back and stormed towards Matt. She grabbed him by the neck, ignoring his startled shout, and pushed him into the alley that was between the bakery and the flower shop.

Matt’s heart was pounding, she could feel his pulse thumping erratically against her fingers. She didn’t care. She kept walking, only stopping when she was close enough to the back wall of the alley to slam Matt into it.

“What the fuck did I just say?” Erica growled, “What the fuck is wrong with you, pervert?”

“What do you mean?” Matt screamed, “Somebody, hel-”

Matt’s cry for help was cut off when Erica’s hand shifted and put pressure on his collar bone. She could feel it flex under her hand, she licked her lips as she thought about the amazing sound it would make if she just…snapped it.

She grabbed Matt’s camera, yanking it from his neck and breaking the strap. She held him against the wall with one hand while she scrolled through the photos with the other. She flipped the camera towards him, shoving it in his face when she found the photo she was looking for. It was a photo of Lydia’s ass, taken just moments before.

“Still don’t have any idea what I’m taking about, fuck face?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll delete it, I promise!”

“Not good enough.” Erica growled, leaning in close and running her nose up the side of his neck, “You smell good. Scared. Terrified. I like it.”

“Erica.” Lydia’s voice came from behind her, but it sounded like she was miles away.

“I wonder what other pictures you have on her, pervert.” Erica whispered, feeling the claws on her hands grow.

“Erica!” Lydia yelled, grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her backwards.

“Don’t!” Erica growled, whirling on Lydia.

Lydia didn’t even blink, she dropped her voice low, “Erica, you’re losing control. You need to stop. Now.”

“I’m fine.” Erica hissed, “He deserves it.”

“Your eyes.” Lydia’s lips formed a thin line, “You’re half shifted, pull yourself together before you do something stupid.”

Erica took a deep breath, trying to focus on things that made her happy. The anger was still simmering inside of her, and she needed to do something to make it go away. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly. Lydia nodded when she opened them.

Erica turned back to Matt, holding his camera in front of him. She let go of him, but he didn’t move. He stood there, shaking like a leaf, his eyes never leaving his camera. A thought popped into Erica’s head, and it was a million times better than breaking Matt’s collar bone.

“You like your camera, huh?” Erica asked, “It looks pretty expensive.”

Matt only nodded.

“It would be a shame if something happened to it.” Erica grinned.

Matt’s eyes went wide, “Please, don’t. Please. No. I’ll do anything.”

Erica hummed, she popped open the side and pulled the SD card out of the camera.

Erica slid it in her pocket, “I’ll be keeping this.”

Matt nodded furiously, “OK. Yes. That’s fine. Can I please have my camera back?”

Erica smiled sweetly, “Sure.”

She held out her hand, but let go of the camera before Matt could reach out to grab it. She watched in satisfaction as the camera fell to the ground and shattered. The zoom lens snapped off, cracking into three pieces. The digital screen on the back broke, and a large crack formed across the body of the camera itself.

Matt screamed, and it was probably the same sound he could have made if Erica shattered his collar bone. It was just as satisfying.

“Oops.” Erica frowned, turning on her heel, “My bad.”

“You fucking bitch!” Matt shouted, “I’m going to kill you!”

Erica laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “Try me.”

Lydia followed her, but she didn’t say anything until they were standing in front of the restaurant again.

“Laura is going to murder you.” Lydia said, crossing her arms in a chastising manner.

Erica huffed out a breath, she’d made peace with that when she decided to smash Matt’s camera.

“I think she’ll at least be happy that I didn’t kill him?” Erica looked around, suddenly noticing someone was absent, “Where’s Boyd?”

Lydia ran a hand through her hair, “You got incredibly lucky, his sister called him with some emergency. I told him you’d be able to take care of yourself, but you should probably expect a call. He saw you lift Matt up with one hand.”

“Oh.” Erica said, blinking.

“Yeah.” Lydia sighed.

Shit.

 

X

 

Stiles flexed his hands, taking a deep breath as he leaned against the tree to catch his breath. He’d been running for what felt like an eternity with Peter right on his heels, he wasn’t moving with all the speed Stiles knew that he had. He was playing with him, toying with Stiles until he got sloppy or made a mistake.

He knew Peter was probably circling him, stalking him, looking for an opening. Stiles decided he should give him one, maybe if he could lure Peter in with a false sense of security he’d be able to take him out. Stiles didn’t think Peter would see through it, or at least he hoped Peter wouldn’t.

The look on Peter’s face was going to be so worth it if it worked.

He pressed his palm into the trunk of the tree, splaying his fingers out as wide as he could. The magic inside of him unfurled, flowing into the tree and leaving behind the smallest of impressions. Stiles could see his handprint in the tree if he looked hard enough. He hung his head as he rested against the tree, panting dramatically for effect.

“What have I told you about leaving your back open?” Peter’s voice drifted from somewhere behind Stiles.

Stiles straightened his body as he heard footsteps coming from behind him, they picked up and turned into a full out sprint. Leaves were crunching underneath Peter, and the sounds of twigs snapping echoed in Stiles’ ear. He turned his head just in time to see Peter launching for him with a clawed hand.

Stiles’ face split into a grin.

He thrusted his left hand to the side, letting out a burst of magic. The magic hit the ground, ripping up the grass and creating a small crater where it impacted the ground. The force of the impact sent Stiles’ body flying to the right, just barely throwing him out of range of Peter’s claws. He shoved out his right hand, throwing out a small magical barrier to catch his body before he hit the ground.

The barrier caught him as he smashed into it, his body sinking into it like a large, invisible bean bag chair. It pushed him forward before his body fully sunk into it, and it disappeared entirely when Stiles was back on his two feet.

Stiles let out a victorious whoop, thrusting his fist into the air. Peter turned to face him, an impressed smile on his face. His back was to the tree, which was going to make the whole thing even more satisfying.

“Hey, Peter?” Stiles called from a few feet away.

“Yes?” Peter asked, arching an eyebrow.

Stiles smiled, showing his teeth, “What have I told you about leaving your back open?”

A brief moment of confusion flickered over Peter’s face, and it was quickly replaced by surprise as one of the branches from the tree reached down and wrapped itself around Peter’s wrist. Peter immediately shifted, his eyes bleeding blue and his teeth protruding from his mouth. His claws glinted under the sunlight as he raised his free hand to try and slash at the branch that was holding him hostage, but another branch quickly shot out and captured that hand as well.

Peter started kicking at the trunk of the tree, letting out furious growls as the branches wrapped themselves around his hands even tighter. They coiled around him like a snake, and then started to lift Peter’s body off the ground. Peter roared, the leaves of the tree rustling in its wake, as the tree started to shake his body side to side.

“Flip him over and grab him by the legs, let’s see if any money falls out of his pocket.” Stiles laughed, doubling over and clutching his stomach.

“Stiles!” Peter shrieked, “Let me down from here this _instant_.”

“Why’s Peter gro-” Isaac’s voice cut off mid-sentence, immediately being replaced by bellowing laughter.

Stiles recovered enough to pull out his phone, opening the camera and filming a video of Peter’s body being rag dolled by Stiles’ magical tree.

“Is he starting to turn green?” Isaac asked in between fits of giggles, “Can werewolves throw up?”

“Stiles!” Peter yelled again, “Let. Me. Down.”

Stiles continued recording, dying to have evidence of what was about to happen, “I’ll let you down if you tell me that I win.”

Peter’s eyes looked murderous, but he gritted his teeth and looked directly into the camera, “Fine. Stiles, you win.”

“Good.” Stiles grinned, “Now tell me that I’m awesome too.”

Peter’s nostrils flared, “You are awesome. A most benevolent being if I have ever seen one.”

“That was pretty good.” Isaac chuckled.

Stiles turned to him, “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Stiles! Now!”

“Oh.” Stiles stopped the video, shoving his phone into his pocket, “OK. One last thing though.”

“What?” Peter roared, “For god’s sake, Stiles!”

“You have to promise that you won’t kill, hurt, or maim me in any way out of revenge.”

Peter huffed, “Fine. I promise I will not seek revenge for this…injustice.”

“OK.” Stiles snapped his fingers, “You’re good to go.”

The tree immediately released Peter, and he fell to the ground with a hard thump. The tree shrunk back, its snake-like limbs returning to normal. Stiles’ handprint faded on the trunk, and there was no evidence that anything magical had just happened.

“You’re a menace.” Peter glared at him, brushing the dirt off his jeans as he stood.

“Oh, come on!” Stiles laughed, “You have to admit that it was awesome.”

“It was pretty cool.” Isaac said, nodding.

Stiles lifted his hand for a hi-five, which was returned after a few awkward seconds of dead air, “See, Isaac thought it was cool.”

“Yes, well, Isaac is free to take a ride on that tree from hell to find out just how _cool_ it was.” Peter pursed his lips, glaring at Isaac like he was a traitor.

“I’m good.” Isaac took a step backwards.

Stiles laughed, gently patting Isaac on the shoulder, “You’re totally exempt from any magical tree attacks buddy.”

“When did you learn that?” Peter asked, “I don’t ever remember Mariska doing something like that.”

Stiles shrugged, “I didn’t exactly know if it would work.”

Peter’s eyebrow rose, “You staked your victory on an untested spell?”

“Well, I figured it was better to test it with you than it was with a scary monster who actually wanted to eat me.” Stiles winced, “I’ve been messing around with some nature stuff lately, and I thought that if I asked really nicely the tree would do its best imitation of the Whomping Willow…and it did!”

“Nature stuff?” Peter asked, cocking his head to the side, “Like what? Murderous trees aside.”

Stiles leaned back, stretching out his back and answering with a groan, “Nothing too crazy, just like making the wind blow and stuff.”

“Seriously?” Isaac asked, “That’s so cool.”

Stiles could feel himself starting to blush, “It’s not that impressive. I’m not Storm or anything.”

“I should hope not.” Peter hummed, “The day you learn to create a rain storm is the day we are all doomed.”

“Can you show me the wind thing?” Isaac asked, “I mean…if it’s not too much trouble. You don’t have to. Sorry.”

Stiles frowned. Isaac had gone from excited to apologetic in less than a second, and he was looking around like he was trying to find the best direction to take off in.

“Sure!” Stiles gave Isaac his best reassuring grin, “It’s not that hard, doesn’t take a lot of energy at all.”

Stiles closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he held a single finger up in the air. He repeated the same few steps he’d done the night with the Wendigo, and he felt the moment that his magic connected with nature. The spark of it burned inside of him, warming him from the inside out. As Stiles lowered his hand, a gust of wind blew through the previously calm clearing.

Clouds of leaves were picked up from the ground, crashing into the three of them where they stood. Isaac’s already unruly hair was swept up in the breeze, pushing it even more out of place. Stiles’ shirt fluttered, and he had to pull it back down before it was ripped from his body entirely. Peter staggered backwards, sinking his claws into one of the nearby trees before he fell over.

The wind died out a second later, disappearing completely as if nothing had even happened. The leaves drifted back to the ground, and Isaac reached up to push his hair back into place. Peter was the only one who didn’t move, his claws were still in the tree and his eyes were blue again.

“Peter?” Stiles asked, “You OK?”

Peter’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, “There’s something here in the woods.”

Stiles’ heart jumped, “What? What is it?”

Peter pulled his claws out of the tree, stepping around Stiles and towards Isaac, “I don’t know. I’ve never smelled it before, but it doesn’t smell _right_.”

“Right?” Isaac asked, “Peter? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you track it?” Stiles asked, moving to stand next to Peter, “Do we need to call anyone else?”

Peter shook his head, “No. It’s not far. We can find it easily.”

“What about me?” Isaac asked, “Am I safe?”

Peter locked eyes with him, nodding strongly, “You’re safer with us than you would be walking back to the car alone. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Yeah, dude.” Stiles smiled as Isaac, “Next thing that tries to touch you is getting the crap beat out of them by an angry tree.”

Isaac smiled softly, “OK.”

Peter started walking, heading towards the south, “I’ll lead. Isaac, you stay between me and Stiles. Stiles, make sure you’re watching our rear.”

Peter took up the front of their line, and it was interesting to watch him move. Stiles had never really seen him in this context, he’d never truly seen Peter move as a predator. He walked almost in a crouch, his center of gravity low, like he was ready to pounce and throw himself on something if he needed to.

The lines of his back were strong, and Stiles could see the ways his muscles twitched as he moved. He didn’t make a single sound as he walked, compared to Isaac who trampled over sticks and leaves, and Stiles who was a little quieter but still nowhere near as quiet as a werewolf.

Isaac was radiating nerves, and Stiles didn’t miss the way he moved a little faster just so he was close to Peter. Stiles still didn’t quite get their relationship, but he was glad Isaac had someone he felt like he was safe with. He might have stolen his dad’s files that had to do with Isaac’s dad, and if anyone deserved to feel safe it was Isaac.

“It’s up ahead.” Peter said.

They walked for a few more minutes, pushing through a thicket of trees and stumbling out into an open clearing in the middle of the woods.

“What is that?” Isaac whispered, pointing to the opposite side of the clearing.

Just in front of the tree line on the other side of the clearing was a large black mass, it looked like a small boulder at first glance, but the more Stiles looked at it he could see that it had darkened skin, almost like leather. Peter held his arm out, stopping both of them from moving any closer, and tipped his head to the side.

A few seconds later, “There’s no heartbeat. It’s dead.”

“OK,” Stiles drew out the first syllable, “what _is_ it though.”

Peter looked over his shoulder, “Let’s find out.”

They walked across the clearing, and the closer they got the worse the smell coming from the creature’s corpse became. The buzzing of flies started in Stiles’ ears, and he swatted them away as they got closer. Stiles was right when he thought the creature looked like leather, they came to a stop in front of a leathery black hide of something that looked like a mix between a human and a bat.

Stiles toed one of the arms with the tip of his shoe, and it flopped over to reveal the webbing of thin wings, “Is this what I think it is?”

Peter nodded, “Yes. This is our Aswang.”

“Woah.” Isaac said, leaning forward to get a closer look.

Stiles joined in, his eyes zeroing in on the Aswang’s face. It was scrunched up in a way that almost resembled the vampires from Buffy, and he could see points of its ears underneath its matted hair. Peter stood back, his arms crossed as he stared down at the Aswang with a confused expression.

When Stiles looked up, Isaac was walking back towards the forest, so Stiles looked at Peter, “The girls must have done more damage than they thought.”

“It doesn’t smell right.” Peter said, “It doesn’t smell like something that crawled away to die of previous injuries.”

Isaac came back with a large stick resting on his shoulder. He flipped the stick over in his hands, pointing it towards the corpse of the Aswang on the ground. He poked at it once, and then again, a little harder, and Stiles staggered backwards, slapping a hand over his mouth as the body flopped over to the side, the torso separating itself from the rest of the body.

A mass of flies poured out of the severed body, rushing at the three of them. Isaac gagged, swatting them away, and Peter stepped off to the side to avoid the onslaught. The smell was even worse now, like the previous position of the body was trapping the worst of it inside. Now though, Stiles could see, and smell, the decaying flesh of the Aswang in front of them.

The torso wasn’t a clean cut, it had jagged cuts, chunks missing from the skin, and there were deep claw marks all across its chest. It wasn’t the work of a hunter or Gerard’s sword, _something_ else did this. It didn’t look like the work of a Wendigo, mostly because if it was a Wendigo kill most of the body would have been eaten. None of the girls did enough damage in their fight to cause _this_ , so Stiles had no idea what was happening.

“This couldn’t have been the thing that attacked Lydia the other day.” Isaac said once he finished gagging, he tossed the stick like a spear into the forest.

“Huh?” Stiles took few steps away from the body, desperate for the fresh air.

“Look at how badly decayed it is, that body has been there for at least a week.” Isaac said, “It couldn’t have attacked Lydia, it was already dead.”

Stiles looked back at the body, at the rotting flesh on display, and blinked rapidly at it.

Shit.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Stiles looked at Peter.

Peter looked back at him, nodding only once, “Yes, I believe it does.”

There was a second Aswang in Beacon Hills.

“Shit.” Isaac whispered, looking at Stiles.

“Shit indeed, Isaac.” Stiles sighed, pulling out his phone to call Laura and deliver the wonderful news.


	9. Hocus Pocus

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

Hocus Pocus

 

 

Stiles rested his chin on his steepled fingers as he looked at Deaton from the other side of the table, “You knew it was an Aswang the whole time, didn’t you? As soon as those kids started disappearing.”

“Pardon?” Deaton looked up from the book he was reading, a jar of clear fluid dangling between his fingers.

Stiles blew out a long breath of air and waved his arms over the table, “This. All of this. You had to know exactly what was going on to be able to get all this stuff together this fast. You told me the other day that it would take time to gather all that you needed, but it’s all here right now.”

Deaton sighed, closing the book and sitting the jar on the bench next to him, “I had a suspicion once I heard about the first boy going missing, yes. I wasn’t entirely sure though, not until you relayed what you discovered in the morgue. I knew the ingredients for this particular spell would take a bit of time to procure, so on the off chance that I was incorrect I still figured it would be nice to have them on hand for if, or when, an Aswang finally made its way to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles blinked rapidly, “I think those are the most words I’ve ever heard you say at once.”

“Yes, it was very taxing.” Deaton deadpanned as he opened his book and resumed reading.

Stiles turned his attention away from Deaton and back to the bountiful table full of magical items. There was a lengthy list that Stiles was supposed to be going through and cataloguing, a double check to make sure they had everything before they started preparation for the spell.

Stiles had read over the spell itself several times, it seemed simple enough to cast but there was one part that gave him pause. He didn’t quite understand the reason the spell called for blood.

Decades of fantasy and science-fiction told Stiles that mixing magic and blood together was a bad idea, but surely Deaton had to know more than a paperback author. Right?

Stiles scanned over the list again, reading it out loud, “Oils of frankincense, Palo Santo, and myrrh. These were what were so hard to find? Couldn’t you have just gone down to the suburbs and knocked on doors until you found a mom who sold essential oils and get some from her?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” Deaton said without looking up from the book.

“Right, right.” Stiles nodded, “These oils are like, blessed or something.”

“Or something.” Deaton sighed for the umpteenth time, “Take this seriously, Mr. Stilinski.”

“I am!” Stiles defended himself, “I’m just waiting for you to actually teach me something, I’ve gone over this list seventeen times and made sure nothing was missing. It’s all here, Doc. Freaky oils and all.”

“You’re positive?” Deaton stood from his bench.

“Yes.” Stiles emphasized with a nod, “As positive as an Ion.”

Deaton ignored him as he walked over to the stacks of drawers that lined the far wall of the basement. He rummaged around inside a few of them, muttering to himself as he went along. Stiles sat back and watched him, waiting for Deaton to do whatever it was that Deaton was going to do.

After a few minutes, Deaton turned back towards the table and walked towards Stiles. Stiles could see he was carrying a transparent plastic bag, and there appeared to be glass vials inside. Deaton put the bag on the table and started pulling out the vials one by one, arranging them in a perfect row across from Stiles. He counted nine vials in total.

“What are those for?” Stiles pointed to the glass vials in front of Deaton.

Deaton sat down on the opposite side of Stiles, “Tomorrow night we will cast the spell to help in identifying the Aswang. We’ll combine all the ingredients in front of us, and it should make about two cups worth of a solution that will react if it comes into contact with the Aswang.”

“React?” Stiles cocked his head to the side, “You mean the boiling that you were talking about?”  

Deaton waved to the vials and nodded, “We’ll put a bit of the solution into each of these vials, and if the Aswang is within range of the person wearing one then the solution inside will start to boil rapidly.”

“So the Aswang shows up and it just boils like hot water?” Stiles asked.

“More or less.” Deaton confirmed, “There are enough vials for each member of the pack and your father, they just require one final ingredient.”

Stiles ran through the list in his head, it dawned on him a moment later, “Blood.”

“Correct. I’m glad you were paying attention to something.” Deaton smiled, “You only need a few drops of blood at most for the spell to key itself to the individual.”

“Why exactly does it need blood?” Stiles asked, “You didn’t really explain it last time.”

“This is a modified protection spell, think of it like a personal proximity ward. The spell needs to know who it’s protecting, and the easiest way to teach it that is to provide the blood of the person who is going to wear it.” Deaton explained.

“Even the werewolves?” Stiles drummed his fingers on the table, “Shouldn’t they just be able to smell the Aswang?”

Deaton shrugged, “The Aswang is an ancient predator who thrives on secrecy and isolation. When they are human, they appear as nothing but that. There’s nothing out of the ordinary about them, and there’s never been a complete understanding of the Aswang as a species, so there’s no way to know if enhanced senses will help in identifying them. They certainly didn’t help when it came to Kate, so there’s no use in taking precautions.”

Stiles tried to absorb everything, he reached out and picked up a vial, “OK, so all I need to do is prick everyone’s finger and then drop their blood into one of these.”

“No.” Deaton said immediately, grabbing the vial from Stiles, “The blood has to be the absolute last thing that is added to the concoction. I’ll provide you with a bag of test tubes to take to your pack meeting tonight, make sure you label each one perfectly and do not get them mixed up.”

“What happens if I mix them up?” Stiles asked, slightly weary.

“The person the blood came from will die.” Deaton answered, his face grim.

“Holy shit.”

Deaton arched an eyebrow, huffing out a small laugh, “Nothing terrible happens, the spell just won’t work for the correct person.”

Stiles felt relieved. One of these days he’d learn to tell when Deaton was joking, he just hoped it would be sooner rather than later. He followed Deaton up the stairs and back into the vet office proper. Deaton disappeared into a storage closet, but quickly came back with a pack of glass test tubes. He borrowed a roll of masking tape from Deaton and pulled out the correct number of tubes, he tore off pieces of tape and printed the name of each pack member in permanent marker before sticking the tape to the tube.

When Stiles was done, he had nine perfectly labeled test tubes. Now all he needed to do was convince a group of supernatural creatures and his father to let Stiles stab them.

Not even a stab, really. Just a prick of their finger.

 

X

 

Laura paced the length of the living room. Her arms were folded across her chest, and her hands were tucked away so that no one could see the claws that kept threatening to shoot out of them. She was pissed the fuck off, for the lack of a better expression.

Erica, at least, had the sense to look like she did something wrong. She did do something wrong, and Laura was trying damn hard not to let her anger and her _fear_ about the whole situation consume her. Laura’s heart had been beating out of her chest after Lydia called her and told her what happened, and that was before Stiles, Peter, and Isaac found a dead body in the forest.

It really, really, was not Laura’s day.

Laura stopped pacing, pinching the bridge of her nose as she looked at the ground, “Just walk me through it one last time, Erica. Tell me exactly what you felt.”

“I was pissed off, OK?” Erica growled, “I don’t know what else you want me to say! Matt is a creep, he’s a fucking asshole, and I didn’t like that he was taking pictures of us. I asked him once to stop, and then he took a picture of Lydia’s _ass_ , so I might have lost a little bit of control.”

“You lost more than a little bit of control, Erica.” Laura threw her head back and groaned, “Matt and Boyd both saw you shift, you lifted a teenage boy up with one arm and slammed him against a wall!”

“Adrenaline.” Erica said by way of an answer.

Laura laughed, a slightly bitter sound, “You’re not a mother who’s lifting a car off her child, Erica, the adrenaline explanation isn’t going to cut it.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Laura!” Erica almost yelled, “I’m sorry, I know I lost control and I shouldn’t have, but I don’t know what to do to make it right.”

Erica’s wounded expression ripped the fight almost completely out of Laura. She slumped her shoulders forward as she walked towards the couch. Erica moved to the side without hesitation, and Laura dropped down onto the couch to fill the empty spot. She wrapped her arm around Erica’s shoulder and pulled her in close, resting her chin on top of Erica’s wild hair.

“I don’t want you to say anything, I want you to think.” Laura said, “Please, next time you’re in a situation like that I need you to stop, take a breath, and try to figure out how to get yourself out of it.”

“I was so mad.” Erica mumbled, “It didn’t feel like I could stop even if I wanted to.”

“That’s part of this whole thing.” Laura explained, “Maybe it’s my fault, you were doing so well with your control over the past couple of months…maybe I wasn’t as thorough with your training as I should have been.”

“It’s not your fault.” Erica said immediately, “I could hear you in my head telling me to calm down, but then I’d look at Matt’s stupid, mushy face and the anger inside me just flared again. If Lydia wasn’t there to pull me away from him…”

Erica trailed off, and Laura didn’t want to know where her thoughts were going. It was what she was scared of too, what she’d been terrified of ever since she bit Scott. Her biggest fear, second only to losing her pack again, was that one of the members of the pack would do something they couldn’t take back.

It was one thing killing in self-defense, fighting back when a hunter or something else was trying to kill you, but it was another thing entirely to claw a boy to death because he’s a pervert.

Laura tightened her grip on Erica, “Do you know how many men I’ve wanted to rip apart over the last twenty-six years? Men suck, it’s just an unpleasant fact. But there are ways to deal with them that don’t involve shifting and destruction of property.”

Erica looked up at her with a frown.

Laura laughed, “OK, maybe destruction of property is fine, but _only_ when it’s done under the cover of the night with no witnesses.”

Erica’s frown turned into a grin, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Not so fast.” Laura grabbed Erica by the back of the neck and squeezed gently, “We’re bringing back the training sessions for at least a week, I want to make sure this isolated incident stays exactly that.”

Erica huffed, “Fine.”

Laura smiled, releasing her hold on Erica just before she stood from the couch. Lydia was in the kitchen with a bottle of water in hand, not even trying to be subtle about the fact that she was eavesdropping.

“You.” Laura pointed at Lydia, “Good job of calming Erica down, and of getting Boyd out of there before he saw anything too damning.”

“Yeah.” Erica groaned, “Thank you for sparing me from the guy I like seeing me act like a total rage monster.”

Lydia smiled primly after taking a sip of water, “Someone has to keep you all in line.”

Laura’s phone buzzed in her pocket, she pulled it out and answered the call from Derek.

“What’s up?”

“The Sheriff and I are on our way out to the Aswang corpse.” Derek replied, “Stiles is going to grab Scott, and Peter and Isaac should be heading out there too. Are you with the girls?”

Laura nodded to herself, “I’ve got Lydia and Erica with me, we’ll meet you out there soon.”

“See you in a bit.” Derek said, and then hung up.

Laura slid her phone into her pocket and grabbed her keys off the coffee table, “Let’s go look at dead things.”

 

X

 

Scott tore the door open before Stiles even had a chance to reach for the handle. He let out an undignified scream of surprise and jumped backwards as Scott came barreling into him.

“Scott, buddy, calm down.” Stiles gasped.

“Allison was just here!” Scott’s eyes were glowing gold, “something happened, and she came here, and then she left.”

Scott’s words were running together, it sounded a little bit like he’d just eaten a spoonful of peanut butter before talking. It took Stiles a moment to decipher everything Scott said, but when he did his eyes went wide.

“What happened?” Stiles pulled Scott towards the Jeep, “How long ago was she here?”

Stiles hadn’t gotten any kind of emergency text from Allison, so he had no idea what could possibly be going on.

“Her mom is dead.” Scott shook his head, “She was killed.”

Stiles froze, “Holy shit. _What?_ ”

Scott took a deep breath, “Her dad just came back from a hunt, and he told her that her mom was killed by a rogue Omega. But Allison caught Gerard in a lie, he said he talked to her mom, but her mom was already dead by the time Gerard said he talked to her.”

“Are you saying…” Stiles trailed off.

Scott nodded sharply, “Gerard killed Allison’s mom.”

Stiles leaned against the side of the Jeep, scrubbing his hand over his face, “Wow. This is really not our week.”

“She was upset, and then we started making out but I-”

Stiles flailed, cutting Scott off, “You guys were what?”

Scott rolled his eyes, lightly pushing Stiles on the shoulder, “I stopped her, obviously. I don’t know…I think she was trying to distract herself from everything, but I didn’t want anything to happen like that.”

“Where is she now?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know.” Scott frowned, “She left after that, and I didn’t want to call her because I didn’t want to risk this whole thing you guys have going on.”

Stiles took a deep breath and started pacing the length of the McCall’s driveway, “OK. You know, I can only deal with one crisis at a time, and right now we have a dead Aswang in the forest, which was probably killed by _another_ Aswang, there’s a mole in the Sheriff’s department, Gerard is a geriatric Pablo Escobar, and now Victoria is dead because Gerard probably had her killed. I mean seriously what the hell did we do to deserve all of this happening at the same time.”

Scott looked dazed, “The Aswang is dead?”

“An Aswang is dead, not the Aswang.” Stiles sighed, “Peter, Isaac, and I found a dead one in the woods today. It was pretty rotted and gross, which means it’s been dead for a few days, which means that it wasn’t the Aswang that attacked Lydia.”

“So, uh, what do we do now?” Scott asked.

Stiles rapped his knuckles on the hood of the Jeep, “Right now we’re going to look at a dead Aswang in the woods, and then I’m going to borrow blood from everyone to cast a spell to find the current live one. I’m worried about Allison, but there’s nothing we can do until she comes to us. She knows how to get into contact with someone if she needs help, and if she’s really in danger she still has the ring I made for her. Are you good to focus on one thing at a time?”

Scott took a deep breath and kicked at the tire of the Jeep, “Yeah. I think.”

“OK. Cool.” Stiles said, “We’ll tell Laura about Allison’s mom after we check out the Aswang. My dad will probably want to know about it too, even if it didn’t happen here. He wants to build a legit case against Gerard, and this might be something he can throw into the mix.”

Stiles climbed into the Jeep, and once Scott was inside he backed out of the driveway and headed for the preserve. He paused when he was halfway into the street, and shifted the Jeep back into drive to pull back into Scott’s driveway.

“Hey, you want something that will make you feel better?” Stiles asked, grinning.

Scott eyed his friend, “Sure?”

“Do you still have that present I gave you for your thirteenth birthday?” Stiles asked.

“I think?” Scott looked confused, “Why?”

“You’ll see.”

 

X

 

Derek stood shoulder to shoulder with the Sheriff as they looked down at the corpse.

Stiles wasn’t exaggerating about the look and smell of the body, and it only seemed to have gotten worse since Stiles, Peter, and Isaac discovered it. Derek had no idea how he wasn’t able to smell it when he and Stiles were out in the morning.

The Sheriff looked a little pale, and he finally had to give up and turn away from the body when a gust of wind blew that caused a chunk of decomposed skin to slide off the Aswang’s bones. Derek didn’t last much longer, thankful for the distraction when he heard Peter and Isaac approaching from behind.

“Funny seeing you here.” Peter grinned.

Derek pursed his lips, not bothering to look back at the Aswang corpse, “That thing is disgusting.”

“Understatement of the century.” The Sheriff shook his head, “Why does it smell so bad?”

Peter shrugged, “It’s a dead thing that eats people, what do you expect?”

The Sheriff turned to Derek, “Son, I hope you don’t grow as cavalier as Peter when you get older.”

“I doubt it.” Derek huffed.

He heard the sound of the Camaro pulling into the clearing a couple hundred feet away from the Aswang’s body. It struck Derek how close to civilization the body actually was, it wouldn’t be impossible for a hiker or a family on a picnic to stumble upon it on accident. Let alone for someone to call the police just because of the terrible smell.

“We’re going to have to do something about this body.” Derek realized, “We can’t leave it out here.”

“Peter was talking about burning it with Stiles.” Isaac said, then shrunk backwards.

The Sheriff stared at Peter, “I’m begging you, can you please stop planning illegal things with my child? Do I need to get down on my-”

The Sheriff abruptly cut himself off, barely managing to suppress a flinch. Peter’s smile grew absolutely feral.

“Do continue, Noah. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to find out where you were going to go with that.” Peter said as his eyes flashed blue.

Derek sighed and walked away, muttering under his breath, “None of my business. None of my business.”

“Christ almighty!” Laura’s voice came from the tree line, “Jesus fuck that is terrible.”

Derek laughed to himself. His sister had such a way with words.

“I’m about to puke and I don’t have the nose of a bloodhound.” Lydia gagged.

Erica clamped her fingers on her nose, her voice coming out pitched and nasally, “You’re lucky. Oh god, I think I can taste it.”

Stiles’ Jeep pulled into the same clearing, and Derek could hear him and Scott talking as they got out and made their way towards the rest of the pack. The closer Stiles got, the more that Derek could tell there was something off about him. He was worried, or at least anxious about something.

Derek went to him as soon as they broke through the trees. Stiles’ body language was telling, his shoulders were tense in the way they only got if there was something important that he needed to tell someone. He wrapped his arm around Stiles’ waist and kissed him on the forehead. It wasn’t much, but it made Derek feel better letting Stiles know that he was there.

Stiles laughed, “Hello to you too big guy.”

“Hi.” Derek said, “Are you OK?”

Stiles looked up at him, arching a brow, “You smelled me, didn’t you?”

Derek shrugged, “I did, but I didn’t have to once I saw you. You’re worried about something.”

Stiles smiled, lightly poking Derek in the chest, “It’s important, but it’s not something we can do anything about at this very moment so let’s just focus on the dead monster and then I’ll tell you and Laura later tonight?”

Derek conceded, “Are you staying the night?”

“If you’ll have me.” Stiles winked.

“Always.” Derek said, and he meant it.

“Oh!” Stiles said suddenly, “I forgot, I have to do some magic stuff with Deaton tonight because of the whole Aswang thing, so I’ll come over after that.”

“Can I go with you?” Derek asked.

He loved watching Stiles use his magic, even if he’d never tell Stiles that it fascinated him.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, “Sure. It’s probably going to be boring though.”

Derek shrugged, “I’ll survive.”

“Are you two done?” Laura called from the other side of the clearing, “I’d rather not breathe in dead creatures for any longer than I have to.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “You’ll survive.”

“You might now.” Laura glared at him, her eyes briefly flashing red.

Stiles let out a low whine, and Derek turned his head to the side to laugh before they both made their way over to Laura. A few people are already gathered around the corpse, and Lydia was closer to it than anyone else. She was kneeling in front of the body, leaning in far closer to it than Derek would himself.

“This definitely isn’t the one that attacked me, its skin is a completely different color.” Lydia stood, brushing the grass and dirt off her knees, “The one that attacked me was pale, almost translucently so.”

“Plus, you know, it was dead before you were even attacked.” Peter said, smirking.

Lydia rolled her eyes, “Thank you, Peter. I don’t know what we would do without our resident cryptobiologist?”

“I’m no expert in supernatural killings, at least not yet.” The Sheriff said, almost resigned, “but the claw marks on its chest resemble the claws on its hands.”

Derek looked at them both, there were similar but not identical patterns in thickness the deeper the marks went. It was enough to draw a conclusion.

“This Aswang was killed by the other Aswang.” Derek said.

“Looks like it.” Laura hummed, “Any insight, Peter?”

Peter tapped his index finger against his chin, “Based on the rough timeline we’re working with, I’d say that this Aswang is the one responsible for the two boys that have died so far.”

“Two Aswangs? or is it Aswang? Oh, hell if I care.” The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose, “That’s a bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

“Not entirely, especially if this Aswang abducted a third victim, but accidentally turned him instead of eating him.” Peter said, “It could be that his third attempt at a meal was a bit more active in fighting back, which resulted in the person turning before he could be killed.”

“How do you even turn into an Aswang?” Isaac asked, “I don’t want to be an Aswang.”

Peter placed a gentle hand on Isaac’s shoulder, squeezing slightly, “You’re in no danger of becoming an Aswang, don’t worry. From what I remember of my research years ago, it involves a mix of blood from the victim and the attacker. That means that whoever the Aswang abducted had to be strong enough to draw blood when fighting back. The change happened rapidly, and our newly formed Aswang took revenge on the one that turned him.”

“So…instead of having an old Aswang, we have a new and probably unpredictable baby Aswang stalking us?” Erica asked, “That sounds wonderful, especially since we have no way of finding it.”

Stiles perked up at that, “That’s where I come in!”

Everyone turned to look at him, and Stiles just waggled his fingers in a way that they’d all learned quickly to mean _magic_. He quickly recapped everything he’d talked about with Deaton, and then he held out his hand towards Scott.

“The box, Scotty.”

Scott shrugged off his backpack and pulled a small cardboard box out of it, which he handed to Stiles. Derek didn’t expect Scott to pull out a wicked looking knife, but he did. Scott held the knife out to Stiles like it was completely normal to pass him a ten-inch dagger with an ivory handle, and Stiles took it like it was completely normal to request a ten-inch dagger with an ivory handle.

“Stiles, what the _hell_?” The Sheriff gaped.

“Huh?” Stiles looked up, dagger in hand, “Oh, this? I just brought it to see the look on your face. It’s fake, courtesy of Scott’s anime phase a few years ago.”

The Sheriff’s face was a mixture of horror and surprise, and from the way Stiles laughed Derek assumed that was what he was going for.

Scott was doubled over in laughter, words stuttering out as he tried to recover, “Dude, that was totally worth it.”

The Sheriff sighed, “You’re grounded.”

Stiles flipped the knife in his hand, and Derek could clearly tell that it was fake now, he pointed it at his dad, “Hey, who’s the one with the creepy magic knife here? Anyway, getting back on track, Deaton and I are going to finish the spell to help us identify the Aswang tonight.”

Derek watched as Stiles opened the box Scott had given him, he pulled out several test tubes with the name of each pack member written on it. He laid them out on the ground, creating enough space between them so they wouldn’t disturb one another. Stiles’ eyes darted between the tubes and the members of the pack, which Derek assumed meant that Stiles was making sure there was enough for everyone. Derek noted that there was even one for Isaac.

“So, the way the spell works is that it’s basically a modified protective proximity ward, except instead of causing something to glow with a warning, the mixture Deaton and I are cooking up will start to boil if the Aswang is around.”

“And what are those for?” Lydia asked, pointing to the tubes on the ground.

“Those are for your blood.” Stiles said, too casually.

Lydia blinked at him, “What?”

“I know, it’s creepy.” Stiles shook his head, “Deaton said that the spell needs to know who it’s trying to protect or warn away from the Aswang, and the best way to key it to each of you is to add a few drops of your blood to the mix once it’s done, which will make it work only when you’re wearing it.”

Derek arched an eyebrow, “That seems…needlessly complicated? Couldn’t you just do some kind of tracking spell?”

Stiles shrugged, “I’m kinda just deferring to Deaton on this one, he was pretty sure it was an Aswang from the beginning.”

“And why are you relying on Deaton instead of yourself?” Peter asked, looking pointedly down at the tubes on the ground.

“Because it’s easier?” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Peter, “I figured saving people from dying with help from someone rather than stumbling along on my own without help would be more efficient. Is it that big of a deal?”

“Perhaps.” Peter hummed, “I don’t participate in any magic that involves collecting my blood. Blood is far too powerful of a thing to go around giving out freely, and there are too many things that can be done with it. I’ve seen it first hand, and I’m not going to give it to anyone. Not even you, Stiles.”

A hushed quiet fell around the pack, and Stiles looked like Peter had physically slapped him. His cheeks were red, and his jaw was slack. Derek stepped in front of him, pushing his chest out in front of Peter.

“What the fuck?” Derek said, “What the hell was that?”

Peter didn’t flinch, “That was nothing against Stiles, there’s nothing personal in my refusal. I wouldn’t even have given blood to Mariska, though she never would have asked for it in the first place. Stiles is still learning, and he needs to learn that there are some types of magic that you don’t mess with.”

Laura stepped in, standing just a few inches in front of Derek, “Peter, if it’s something Deaton wants to do then I think it’s fine. Deaton wouldn’t do anything to put any of us in danger, he’s been helping our family for decades.”

“It’s the principal of the matter.” Peter stood his ground, “And I don’t want Isaac giving anyone his blood either.”

Isaac looked shocked to hear that, “It’s fine. I don’t mind, I don’t want to make anyone mad.”

Stiles cleared his throat, “No, it’s fine dude. I’m…I’m not going to get mad because you won’t give me your _blood_. If Peter doesn’t want to, then you don’t have to.”

Stiles lost a bit of his vibrato at the end of that, which told Derek that he was more upset about Peter’s reaction than he was letting on. They’d been getting along so well, and with Peter actually helping him with his magic, Derek knew that Stiles was taking Peter’s refusal personally.

Laura huffed and rolled her eyes, “You’re being so dramatic, Peter.”

She then leaned down and picked up the tube with her name on it, uncorked it with her teeth, and then let the claw on her thumb slip out. She used her claw to prick the end of her index finger, and she held it over the tube as a few drops of blood spilled out before she healed.

Peter glared pointedly at her, but didn’t say anything as Laura sat the tube back into the box that Stiles pulled them all out of. Derek grabbed his next, repeating exactly what Laura did until a few drops of his own blood fell into the tube.

The rest of the pack quickly followed, Scott and Erica used their own claws to draw their blood. Lydia pulled a knife out of her boot and pricked her finger, and the Sheriff did the same thing with his own pocketknife.

The only person who had an empty vial other than Isaac and Peter was Stiles himself. Derek reached out and grabbed Stiles’ hand, flipping it over as he extended his claw again. He looked to Stiles for permission, Stiles nodded, and Derek lightly pressed the tip of his claw into the pad of Stiles’ index finger.

Stiles held his finger over the vial as the blood slowly dripped from his finger. He pulled his finger back after a few drops fell into the bottom of the vial, pulling out a pack of Band-Aids and handing one to the Sheriff and Lydia before wrapping one around the cut on his finger.

“You ready to go to Deaton?” Derek asked Stiles as he gathered up the vials and made sure they were all in order.

“Sure.” Stiles said, “Might as well get this over with. We’ll meet everyone back at the apartment after it’s done so I can give you guys whatever it is that we make.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Laura said, “Scott, you can catch a ride back with me.”

Scott looked at Laura, “OK.”

Stiles carried the box under his left arm, and he lopped his right around Derek’s as they walked to the car.

“Let’s go do some magic, Balto.”

 

X

 

Deaton’s office was closed by the time Stiles and Derek arrived. Stiles climbed out of the jeep, leaving Derek and his superior reflexes to carry the precious cargo of blood. That was not a thought Stiles ever would have imagined popping into his head, but such was his life now.

He’d thought more about blood in the last several hours than he had in his entire life. Who would have thought that blood was such a hot button issue? Not Stiles, that’s for sure. Peter certainly did though, and Stiles was trying his best not to let Peter’s vehement refusal sting.

He wasn’t very successful.

It was more so the way Peter went about it, rather than his outright refusal. Peter dressed him down, made him feel like a kid playing in a world he didn’t understand, like there was something terribly wrong with what he was asking. Sure, everything he’d read said that blood magic was a bit of a morally gray area, but it wasn’t like he was cutting open his palm to summon a demon from the nether realm. Did the spell that was about to happen even qualify as blood magic?

Stiles made his way down to the basement of the office, trusting that Derek would follow him. Deaton was standing by the long wooden table in the middle of the room, and he had most of the ingredients for the spell placed out onto the table next to what looked like a cast iron cup sitting on top of a burner.

“That’s less of a cauldron than I was expecting.” Stiles said, gesturing at the metal cup.

Deaton looked up, a sprig of rosemary in his hand, “I told you earlier that we were only making a few cups of this solution, there’s no need to dirty an entire cauldron for something so small. Unless you’d like to be the one to clean it out afterwards?”

“I’m good.” Stiles put up his hands, somehow doubting a simple automatic dishwasher would suffice in cleaning a cauldron.

“Ah, Derek.” Deaton said, surprised, “I didn’t expect you here as well.”

Derek shrugged, “Where do you want these?”

“Are those the blood samples from the pack?” Deaton asked.

“Yes.” Derek said.

Deaton stepped around the table and grabbed the box from Derek, “I’ll unpackage these while Stiles sets everything else up for the spell.”

Stiles walked over to the table and started arranging the ingredients in the order that he would need them. He grabbed a glass bottle that was labeled Holy Water and twisted the cap off, pouring it into the cast iron cup and turning on the flame of the burner so it would start to boil.

“There’s nothing in there from Peter and Isaac, by the way.” Stiles said over his shoulder, “Apparently it’s a big no-no to ask for the blood of another person in Peter’s book.”

Deaton sighed, “I was worried he might say something like that. Peter views magic very differently than I do myself, but I suppose that is to be expected.”

“What do you mean?” Derek asked.

Stiles looked up and saw that Derek had pulled a stool over to the table and was settled in across from him, his arms folded as he watched Stiles work.

“A majority of Peter’s exposure to magic has been seeing it as a power of destruction. Mariska was a talented and powerful witch, capable of doing many remarkable things. She used her power to fight, to protect herself and her family, and Peter accompanied her in doing so. We both know the destruction that can come from those who abuse magic, and Peter and Mariska encountered many people who’d fallen to its darkness. Peter has seen what magic can do to destroy things, but I’m not sure he’s had many opportunities to see what magic can do to create things. Peter and I have very different philosophies when it comes to magic, and this is the perfect example.”

“Peter said that having the blood of another person is one of the most powerful things you can have.” Stiles said, plucking petals off flowers and dropping them into the now boiling water, “What did he mean?”

“Blood is the essence of life itself, if you have another person’s blood then it’s possible, if the magic user is powerful enough, for you to control the person. It’s a dangerous and complex spell, one that poses a significant risk to the user, but it’s undoubtedly powerful. I wouldn’t take Peter’s refusal personally, he’s just being overly cautious. I don’t blame him, not with the amount of time he’d spent in a magical coma.”

Shit.

Stiles hadn’t even thought of that; no wonder Peter was so against the idea.

“Blood magic is what Aunt Mariska used to create...the Rougarou, right?” Derek asked cautiously.

Deaton nodded, “Blood magic is involved in that, yes. Another reason why Peter might have something against it, seeing that blood magic was involved in Mariska’s death.”

“Shit.” Derek sighed, “Now I feel like an asshole.”

“Me too.” Stiles frowned, “At least we can be assholes together.”

Derek’s cheeks slowly turned a rosy color. He tapped Derek’s foot under the table and smiled.

Deaton walked back to the table with the vials of blood, they were being held in a wire frame contraption that had a spot for each so that they all stayed separated. The labels were facing outwards, so Stiles was worried about grabbing the wrong one when the time came. Deaton also placed another box on the table, and he began to pull out jars that were about the size of Stiles’ pinky finger. They were each attached to a simple chain, and each jar had the name of a pack member etched into the glass.

“How long have you had these ready?” Stiles asked, holding up the jar with his name on it and watching as it twisted back and forth on the chain.

“About an hour. I have an etching pen upstairs, it took no time at all.” Deaton lined the bottles on the opposite side of the table closer to Derek, “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yeah.” Stiles said, huffing out a breath, “Let’s do it.”

Deaton pointed to the glass jars of oil on the counter, “Remember, you need to imbue these with your magic and the will of protection before you add them to the potion. If you don’t truly believe that these will work, then they will not work when the time comes. Above everything else, magic is about belief.”

Stiles took a deep breath, whispering, “If you build it, they will come.”

Derek laughed softly from across the table, Stiles opened his eyes and grinned at him before picking up the first bottle.

He took the cork off the bottle, inhaling the deep, woody smell of the Palo Santo oil. He let the scent of the oil wrap around him, let it fill his nose as he tried to connect with it as strongly as possible. The magic in Stiles’ chest unfurled itself, rushing from the center of his chest and down both arms to the hands that were wrapped around the bottle. It was warm, like he was wearing a leather jacket in the middle of summer. He could feel the vibration of the oil, the frequency that he was trying to connect to with his magic.

_Protection._

_Identification._

_Pack._

**Power.**

Stiles gasped as the magic connected, his eyes flying open. The oil was glowing a light amber, which Stiles took to mean it was ready to be added. He turned it over the cup, slowly letting it fall into the boiling holy water. It steamed as soon as the oil hit it, and the once slow boil started growing more rapid.

Stiles scooped up the various herbs on the table and dropped them into the solution, causing more smoke and steam to rise from the cast iron cup. The cup itself was glowing now, Deaton was saying something, but Stiles couldn’t hear it over the sound of white noise in his ears.

He repeated the process of connecting with the oil, and his magic was able to latch onto the Frankincense almost instantly. He poured the oil into the cup, and then held his hand over it on instinct. The heat coming off the mixture was unpleasant, even with his palm a few inches over it, but he knew it was the right thing to do.

_Protection._

_Identification._

_Pack._

**Power.**

Stiles lifted his hand into the air, and the bubbling solution followed it. The liquid lifted itself out of the cup, somehow still managing to boil while it was floating in mid-air. Derek’s eyes were wide, but Stiles wasn’t focused on him. The liquid bubbled and moved back and forth as Stiles moved his hand, chasing it around like an untethered lava lamp.

He guided the liquid over to the smaller jars with each pack members’ name on it and imagined cutting the liquid into separate parts like a loaf of bread. The liquid separated into seven equal balls of water, each of them still boiling as they hovered over the respective pack members’ jar. Stiles flicked his fingers downwards, and each ball of liquid funneled itself into its jar without spilling a drop.

Stiles pointed his other hand towards the wire frame tower that held the blood samples, and each one slipped from its holding spot and floated through the air until it was hovering above the jar with a matching name. He didn’t check twice, because he knew they were all correct. Stiles blinked, and the vials turned upside down. Stiles watched as the blood from each pack member dripped into their jar until there was nothing left in the tube.

Each jar was now filled with part of the solution, and the blood from the respective pack member. Bits of shredded flowers and herbs floated in the amber colored solution, making it look like an odd novelty necklace.

“Stiles!” Derek said, but Stiles didn’t hear him, so he could only read his lips.

He blinked once, twice, three, four times, and then the glass vials that once held the blood crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

The sound of the world came rushing back all at once, slamming into Stiles’ ears like two fists on either side of his head.

“Stiles!” Derek called out, and this time Stiles could hear the panic in his voice, “Stiles, are you OK? Can you see me?”

“See you?” Stiles asked, his voice sounding unusually high to his own ears.

“Your eyes, Stiles!” Derek’s own eyes were glowing blue now.

Stiles turned his head to the left, catching his reflection in one of the glass cabinet doors.

His eyes were completely white.

“Huh.” Stiles said, staring at the white eyes in his reflection, “That’s nifty.”

Stiles’ reflection faded away, overtaken by darkness as he felt his head growing heavier by the second. He barely had time to realize what was happening before he fell off his stool and to the ground, unconscious.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look forward to the comments!


	10. Lawful Practices

 

Chapter 10

Lawful Practices

 

When Stiles woke, he was enveloped in a warm, familiar comfort. The bed underneath him was feather soft, and the stretchy plaid blanket that was draped over him kept him from feeling like he was suffocating. His head sunk into the squishy pillow that Stiles made Derek get because he refused to sleep in Derek’s bed if all he provided were extra firm pillows, regardless of Derek’s whining about how they were better for your neck.

Derek’s bed was soft, and it was safe. Nothing bad had ever happened in Derek’s bed, and a lot of good things had. A lot of good things that could reasonably still be shown on basic cable television, but that didn’t make them any less good.

“You’re awake.” Derek’s voice came from somewhere in the room, it wasn’t a question.

Stiles groaned, flopping over onto the opposite side where he was sure he’d find Derek. He cracked open a single eye to find Derek sitting at his desk, both his feet tucked under him while he read from an absurdly thick novel. Derek’s eyes flicked over the top of the book, they looked as soft and inviting as Derek’s bed felt.

It was almost enough to make Stiles forget about the pounding in his forehead. Almost.

“My head feels like Sharon Stone took an ice pick to it.” Stiles said, his voice muffled as he turned his head back into his pillow.

Stiles barely heard the sound of Derek’s chair moving across the carpet before the bed sunk down on one side and soft fingers started gliding up and down his back. Stiles shivered as Derek’s fingers tickled the back of his neck, he leaned into the touch as much as he could from his current position.

“Deaton said you’d probably have a killer headache when you woke up.” Derek said just before the sound of pills rattling around a plastic bottle.

Stiles looked up as Derek tipped the bottle over and dropped a few tablets in his hand. He reached over the top of Stiles’ head and picked a glass of water up from the bedside table, and Stiles sat up, twisting his body around so his back was against the headboard before he took the glass from Derek, greedily drinking half of it as Derek chuckle at him.

Stiles pulled the glass away from his lips with a satisfied sigh, and reached out his free hand towards Derek, flexing his fingers and making grabby hands for the pills Derek was still holding, “Give me that sweet, sweet pain relief.”

Derek arched a single eyebrow, “It’s just Tylenol.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, wincing when even that aggravated his headache, “You say that like you even know what Tylenol does, my dude.”

Derek looked unimpressed, but he still handed Stiles the medicine. Stiles popped them into his mouth and returned to the glass of water, finishing it off completely as he swallowed the pills. Derek took the glass from him, and then pulled a water bottle out from somewhere else.

“You’re a god among werewolves, truly.” Stiles smiled, taking the water bottle from Derek.

“Deaton also said you’d be dehydrated.” Derek frowned, “I didn’t know that spell was so dangerous.”

Stiles rolled the water bottle back and forth in his hands, cocking his head to the side, “Neither did I.”

It wasn’t dangerous, not really. Stiles had seen dangerous magic, and what he’d done was far from dangerous. Still, he hadn’t exactly expected to be floating mystical fluids and blood through the air while his eyes disappeared, nor did he expect to pass out from the whole experience.

“Deaton never told you that was a possibility?” Derek asked, crawling up the bed to sit next to Stiles.

Stiles leaned into him, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder, “He might have when I wasn’t paying attention, or maybe there was some fine print somewhere that I forgot to read. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You did scare me.” Derek said honestly, “But it’s not your fault so you don’t have to be sorry. If I’m mad at anyone, it’s Deaton.”

“Please don’t do the whole scary werewolf boyfriend thing to my Yoda, Der.” Stiles paused, “Just to clarify, I’m more worried about what would happen to you rather than what would happen to Deaton.”

Derek huffed, “I could totally take Deaton.”

Stiles laughed, “Tell that to everyone who thought they could fight Yoda because he was tiny and green, underestimating Yoda is a quick way to lose a fight.”

“Can we please stop referring to Deaton as Yoda?”

“Do that, I suppose we can.” Stiles said in his best Yoda voice, grinning when Derek cringed.

Derek rolled his eyes, but he pulled Stiles closer and started carding his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles let out a pleased hum and angled his head towards Derek even more. Derek huffed out a low laugh, but he didn’t stop. Stiles was content to stay there, well aware of the fact that he was being pet by a werewolf.

A few minutes later, just as Stiles was about to be lulled back to sleep, his eyes abruptly shot open. He couldn’t believe now that he’d forgotten it, but he realized he had no idea if the spell even worked.

“Der,” Stiles said, flicking his eyes up at Derek, “before I passed out, did I finish the spell?”

Derek nodded, “Yeah, Deaton said everything was done correctly.”

Derek reached back and Stiles heard something scrape against the wood of the other side table. Stiles sat up, moving away from Derek slightly as something swung into his vision. It was a small glass vial, hanging from Derek’s finger by a simple chord. The glass vial was filled with a murky solution, almost yellow but with flecks of red floating in it. Stiles reached out and grabbed the vial, turning it around in his hand until he found Derek’s name etched in the glass.

He wrapped his hand around it and closed his eyes, and as Stiles took a deep breath he could sense the small bit of magical power thrumming through the whole thing. It wasn’t much, nothing impressive really, it just felt like his hand had gone to sleep and started to tingle. He’d certainly felt greater magical power from things in Deaton’s workshop, or even in the pieces of jewelry he’d created for Allison, but it was nice to think that a little bit of Stiles’ own magic would be with the pack wherever they went.

“It smells like you.” Derek said, his eyes focused on the small bottle.

“Huh?” Stiles asked, cocking his head to the side, “It should smell like you, if anything. It’s your blood inside it.”

Derek laughed, his smile lopsided, “Not like you, not really. I mean…it smells like your magic. Or like when you smell after you do magic.”

“My magic smells?” Stiles asked, eyes wide, “Oh god, please tell me it smells good. I don’t want smelly magic.”

Derek laughed again, deeper this time, Stiles could feel the rumble of his chest from how close they were, “It smells good to me. It smells like cinnamon, mint, and electricity.”

“Electricity smells good?” Stiles asked.

“Yours does.” Derek took the bottle from Stiles, he dangled it by the chord before setting it back down on the table.

Derek pulled him close, tugging Stiles up onto his lap. Stiles went breathless the way he always did when Derek manhandled him a little, his back arched into Derek’s touch as Derek’s hands splayed open against his back.

“It smells powerful.” Derek whispered, pressing his lips against Stiles’ collarbone and kissing his way up Stiles’ neck, “You smell powerful, like you can defend yourself. I still worry about you all the time, but I know you can protect yourself if you have to.”

“Derek,” Stiles’ voice cracked as Derek’s teeth bit into the soft skin of his ear, “Derek, fuck.”

Derek bucked his hips, moving Stiles’ entire body with him. Stiles shuddered, gasping when Derek’s warm hands slid underneath his shirt and pressed into his skin. Derek’s hands felt like fire, and Stiles felt like his body was made of ice. Everywhere Derek touched him started to melt, and Stiles was perfectly fine with turning into a pool of water at Derek’s feet.

“Shirt?” Derek leaned back, looking into Stiles’ eyes for permission.

Stiles nodded quickly, “Yes. Please. Yes.”

Derek was very much a part of the consent is sexy family, he never once tried to take anything away from of off Stiles without his permission. He still didn’t want to go much further than they had before, which Stiles understood and had zero problems with given his past, but he’d learned pretty early on that he was completely fine with whatever Derek would give him.

“Yours too?” Stiles asked, pulling Derek’s shirt over his head when Derek nodded.

Stiles’ mouth went dry at the sight of Derek’s body. It always did, but it was even better when they were this close. Stiles could look, drool, and touch without anyone grinning at him or making a suggestively sarcastic werewolf remark.

Stiles ran his hands up Derek’s body, blunt fingernails scraping against tan skin and abs. His fingers carded through the thicker than usual chest hair, a recent victory that Stiles took so much pleasure in. Who knew the way to get your boyfriend to stop manscaping was to casually say one morning that you wonder what it would feel like to lick their body without it?

Stiles let out a yelp as Derek’s hand slid under his thighs, he lifted Stiles’ body with one hand and used the other to brace himself as he reversed their positions in bed. Stiles laughed as his back fell against the mattress and Derek loomed over him, supporting the weight of his body with one hand on the mattress.

“You’re more riled up than usual.” Stiles grinned, writhing as Derek’s nose moved up his throat and over his Adam’s apple, “You didn’t get into some kind of weird sex pollen in Deaton’s workshop, did you?”

Derek growled, “Never say that again.”

Stiles gasped as Derek’s lips pressed into his, mumbling incoherently as Derek’s tongue slipped inside his mouth. Derek pushed Stiles’ legs apart with his knees, slotting himself in between them and pressing into Stiles. Stiles moaned as he felt Derek’s obvious erection press into him, it certainly wasn’t subtle under the fabric of his sweatpants. Stiles’ was straining against the shorts he was wearing, and he felt heat shoot through his body every time Derek moved against him.

“Der…” Stiles gasped as Derek pulled his mouth away and kissed the hollow of Stiles’ neck.

Derek’s kisses continued, they trailed down from the center of Stiles’ neck, to both of his collar bones, Derek kissed his way across the expanse of Stiles’ chest, and then pressed his lips to the center of Stiles’ chest where he always felt his magic come from.

A surge of energy shot through Stiles’ body, stronger than anything he’d ever felt when casting a spell. He felt himself go weightless, and it took him a moment to realize that he _was_ weightless. He felt his body lift off the bed, the soft fabric of the sheets being replaced by cold nothingness. The power continued to bubble under his skin, and he felt it all rushing to the center of his chest. He tried to say something, but the words died on his lips.

The power ignited all at once, he could see a dull light shining from the center of his chest. It lit up Derek’s face, his eyes shot open just before Stiles gasped and felt a spark of energy release. Derek hissed, jerking his head away as Stiles’ body fell back down to the bed. He bounced a little bit, and Derek’s eyes were wide and electric blue as he pressed a hand to his lips.

“Derek!” Stiles all but yelled, sitting up, “Oh my god, are you OK? Please tell me you’re OK!”

Derek looked a little dazed, but when he pulled his hand away Stiles could see that there was nothing wrong. There wasn’t a sign of freshly healed skin, just Derek’s regular stubbly face.

“I’m fine.” Derek said, blinking, “I, uh, think we got too excited?”

Stiles looked at Derek, then down at his body, and then back at Derek.

“No.” Stiles said slowly, “No. Tell me what I think just happened didn’t happen.”

Derek slowly smiled, “I think it did.”

Stiles flung his body back against the bed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes as he contemplated dying of embarrassment, “Oh my god, my magic just cockblocked me.”

Derek laughed, and Stiles felt the bed shift again as Derek laid down next to him, “It’s OK.”

“That’s easy for you to say!” Stiles whined, “You don’t have magic that zaps me when I want to get frisky with you!”

Stiles heard Derek mutter the word frisky under his breath before he laughed, “Yes, I just have an innate animal instinct that could tear your throat out or shred your back to ribbons if I lost control and let it.”

Stiles cracked one eye open and looked at Derek, “OK. You win.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “It’s not a contest.”

“OK.” Stiles said, “But if it was, you’d totally win the contest of deadly sexy time.”

“You’re impossible.” Derek said, pressing a kiss to the side of Stiles’ head, “You’re lucky I love you.”

Wait.

What?

_Record scratch._

Derek’s eyes were wide, like, werewolf caught in the headlights wide. Stiles looked at Derek, Derek looked at Stiles, and suddenly it felt like both of them were bared, exposed. Far more exposed than they were both shirtless and in thin pajama pants.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Derek pressed his fingers against Stiles’ lips.

“You didn’t have to hear that if you didn’t want to.” Derek said, “I’m sorry.”

Stiles pulled his head back and away from Derek’s hand, “Did you _want_ me to hear that?”

Derek’s cheeks were flaming red, “It just slipped out.”

It took Stiles’ brain a few seconds to catch up, “But…you mean it, right?”

“What?”

“You love me?” Stiles asked, just to be sure.

“Of course I do.” Derek took a deep breath, “How could I not love you?”

Stiles laughed, “Let me count the ways.”

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was serious now, serious enough for Stiles to stop using humor as a defense mechanism, “I mean it. I love you.”

And. Well.

Holy shit.

Derek Hale loved him. And that was…that was something. It was more than Derek liking him, or wanting to protect him, or wanting to see him naked.

Derek _loved_ him.

“Well…that’s good.” Stiles said, “I’m glad.”

“Good.” Derek said awkwardly, “Good.”

“Yes. Very good.” Stiles smiled, leaning in, “Because I love you too.”

“You do?” Derek asked, hesitant.

“A whole hell of a lot, dude.” Stiles confirmed, “And I’m not just saying it because you said it.”

Derek blinked, “Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles grinned deviously, “I love you, dude.”

Derek let out a prolonged sigh, flipping over onto his back before he reached over and turned the lamp next to the bed off, “I hate you.”

Stiles turned the lamp on his side of the bed off too, and then he curled into Derek’s side, smiling as Derek’s arm dropped down around him and pulled him closer, “No you don’t. You love me.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Goodnight, Derek. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

X

 

“You’re going to do great.”

Laura looked over her shoulder at Derek, at his reassuring smile, and took a deep breath. She nodded, squared her shoulders, and then turned to check her reflection in the front window of the library. She was dressed a little more professionally today than she normally did, a pair of dark jeans that had never been torn or touched with a drop of blood, and a simple white linen button up shirt. She tossed her hair, running her fingers through it to work out any kinks, and then dropped her hands to her hips as she raked her eyes up and down her reflection.

“I’d look hot with a holster, wouldn’t I?” Laura said, cocking her head to the side.

Stiles laughed, “The hottest.”

“You’ll be the star deputy in no time.” Derek smiled, wrapping his arm around Laura’s shoulder.

Laura laughed, shrugging him off, “You’re acting like this is my real first day at a job, this is just a cover so we can find out who’s working with Gerard.”

“It’s just a cover now, but it doesn’t have to be.” Stiles said, “My dad has made several not so subtle comments over the past few weeks that he’d love to have a werewolf on the force and Deputy Hale has a very sexy ring to it.”

“Because I’m doing all of this to be sexy.” Laura deadpanned.

“I’m just saying, I think you’d make a really good cop. It has a nice ring to it too.” Stiles waved both hands in front of his face, spreading them slowly like he was presenting something, “Laura Hale: Werewolf Cop.”

“Let’s just get through this whole thing before I start thinking about a career change.” Laura said.

Stiles reached into the Jeep and pulled out his bag. He lifted a small wooden box from it and sat it onto the hood of the Jeep before opening it, and then reached inside and pulled out two necklaces with glass vials attached to them. The liquid inside was a murky yellow color, and Laura could smell a mixture of blood and magic in them.

“Are these the Aswang detectors?” Laura asked, taking the vial with her name etched into it from Stiles.

Stiles nodded, and then reached down into the collar of his shirt and pulled out an identical necklace to the one she was holding in her hand. She noticed the string around Derek’s neck that disappeared under the fabric of his shirt.

“So I just wear it?” Laura asked, slipping the necklace over her head.

“Yep.” Stiles said, “If you happen to come into contact with an Aswang then the liquid inside should start to boil, but I don’t know anymore than that since we don’t really have an Aswang to test it on.”

“Is that one for your dad?” Laura pointed to the other necklace in Stiles’ hand.

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles looked down at the bottle, “I didn’t get a chance to give it to him since I slept over at the apartment last night.”

Laura held out her hand, “I’ll give it to him, and make sure that he actually wears it.”

Stiles laughed, “Giving your boss jewelry on your first day? You’re such a suck up, Deputy Hale.”

Laura rolled her eyes and plucked the necklace from Stiles’ grasp, “I will see you two later.”

“Good luck!” Stiles called out as she crossed the street.

Laura waved him away over her shoulder, and she turned back to see Derek giving her a thumbs up just before she opened the door and stepped into the Sheriff’s station. She’d been inside several times since the first night back in Beacon Hills when she was arrested, and it hadn’t gotten less intimidating. There was something about being around that many cops that made her skin tingle.

She’d been through to see the Sheriff so many times now that Tara at the front desk didn’t bother trying to stop her, she just offered Laura a polite wave while she was on the phone and pointed over her shoulder for her to go back. It was a busy day in the office, almost every desk was occupied and there were several deputies walking around with harried looks on their faces. She spotted Jordan from across the room, and he looked up at the same time.

Jordan’s face cycled through a few emotions, starting with surprised and ending with a happy smile. He got up from his desk, edged around two deputies who were standing in the middle of the room talking, and made his way over to Laura. He stopped in front of her, still smiling.

“Hey, didn’t except to see you here so early.” Jordan said, “What’s up?”

“Good morning to you too.” Laura smiled back, “I’m, uh, actually here for-”

“Laura, glad to see you here so early.” The Sheriff cut Laura off, stepping out of his office and walking over to greet them.

Laura stuck her hand out and gave the Sheriff a formal handshake, since it seemed like the proper thing to do for her cover. The Sherriff shook her hand, and then dropped a hand onto her shoulder.

“You ready to get started?” The Sheriff asked.

Laura looked at Jordan, who looked confused, then back at the Sheriff, “Give me one second and I’ll meet you in your office?”

“Sounds good.” The Sheriff nodded, turning and walking back to his office and closing the door behind himself.

Jordan narrowed his eyes, “You’re here for the Sheriff, not me?”

“Yeah.” Laura said awkwardly, “I meant to tell you, but it was so last minute that I figured I’d just see you here in the morning instead.”

“More secret consultations with the Sheriff?” Jordan asked.

Laura laughed, “Something like that.”

“Well, I don’t want you to keep the boss waiting then.” Jordan smiled, nodded, and turned to walk back to his desk.

Laura watched him go, pushed aside a few sinful thoughts about his ass, and then made her way to the Sheriff’s office. She stuck her head inside the door, and she was greeted with the Sheriff holding up a post-it note that read **how do I know if my office is bugged?**

Laura slipped inside the office, held a finger against her lips, and turned her head to the side. She focused her hearing, blocking out the ambient noise from the station outside, and listened for anything that sounded strange in the Sheriff’s office.

A few seconds later, “You’re good, there’s nothing in here.”

The Sheriff looked surprised, “You can tell that just by listening?”

“Yeah, it’s actually something Peter taught me.” Laura smiled, remembering how weird that entire day was, “If I focus hard enough I’d be able to hear the feedback loop from a potential bug, I could pick up the natural sounds it was projecting and sending out to whoever would be listening.”

“And Peter taught you how to do that?” The Sheriff blinked, “Why am I not surprised?”

Laura laughed, “Well, you know Uncle Peter, he’s a slippery one.”

The Sheriff sighed, “Don’t I ever.”

Not for the first time, but it crossed Laura’s mind to ask the Sheriff just exactly what his history was with Peter. Few things surprised Laura anymore, but she was still reeling a bit from the fact that Peter and Sheriff Stilinski knew each other, that they went to the same _high school_ together. Her mother had told her stories about what Peter was like in high school, he always sounded like the complete opposite of the person he’d been ever since Laura had known him.

But then Laura remembered the look on the Sheriff’s face the day of the barbecue and she repeated the mantra that _it wasn’t her business_ until any and all thoughts of asking the Sheriff were quashed.

“Oh, before I forget!” Laura handed the Sheriff his new magical necklace, “This is from Stiles.”

The Sheriff took the necklace from her, dangling it in front of his face, “This is the thing with my blood in it?”

Laura nodded, “One hopefully fool proof wearable Aswang finder.”

The Sheriff sighed, “We’re not going to know if it works until it works, are we?”

Laura laughed, “Nope!”

“Is your life weird to you?” The Sheriff asked suddenly.

Laura considered the question for a moment, “How do you mean?”

“Just, you know…” The Sheriff waved his arms in front of himself, “Magic, monsters, all this crazy stuff. Do you ever think your life is weird?”

“No.” Laura answered honestly, “It’s really all I’ve ever known, there’s no reason for it to be weird to me.”

“I guess that makes sense.” The Sheriff stared off into the distance, “I’ve gotta tell you though, I think my life is weird. One day my son is a normal, hyperactive kid, and then the next he’s a magical hyperactive kid.”

“You left out the part where he’s dating a werewolf.” Laura grinned.

The Sheriff huffed out a laugh, “Laura, it’s a miracle that Stiles is dating anyone. That’s not the weird part, I’m happy that he’s happy. What is weird, is the fact that I’m going to have to wear a magical bottle around my neck that my magical son made using drops of my blood and other magical things.”

“It’s all so…magical.” Laura bit her lip to stop from smiling.

“Anyway!” The Sheriff clapped his hands together, “Back to business!”

“So, how are we doing this?” Laura asked, waving her arm towards the door.

The Sheriff tapped a finger against the side of his head, “I’ve got a whole speech saved up here, but for the rest of the time I figured we’d just wing it?”

“That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing since coming back to Beacon Hills, and it seems to have worked so far.” Laura smiled, “Lead the way boss.”

The Sheriff stepped around Laura, opened the door, and walked out into the station. Laura followed behind him, and stepped off to the side as the Sheriff cleared his throat. The entire station went abruptly quiet, Laura was surprised at how quickly and efficiently the Sheriff silenced an entire room.

“I won’t take too much of your time this morning, I just wanted to take a second to introduce you all to someone who’s going to be hanging around the department for the next few weeks.” The Sheriff pointed to Laura, she bashfully bowed her head and stepped forward, something she hoped would make her seem less threatening to the person she was after.

“Hi.” Laura smiled softly.

“For those of you who don’t know her, this is Laura Hale. I’ve been speaking with her about coming to work for us for the last few weeks, and she’s finally decided to take me up on the offer to shadow the department for a bit.” The Sheriff pulled Laura closer to himself, “Laura’s got a fantastic background with criminal justice, and an impressive degree in Criminology from NYU. She’s taken a look at a few of our cold cases and opened my eyes up to new possibilities, and I think she’d be a great addition to the team.”

Jordan was looking at her now, his eyes soft and proud. Laura wagered he probably felt like an asshole for what he said the other night, which is probably why they hadn’t spoken much since then. She’d forgive him eventually, but it was always more fun to make a man sweat a bit so he learned his lesson.

“I hope you guys don’t mind having me around, I promise not to bother you too much.” Laura smiled sweetly, then reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Several men in the office already had hearts in their eyes. Laura laughed to herself, men were so easy.

“I expect everyone here to treat her with the same respect you treat all of your fellow deputies.” The Sheriff said, his voice stern, “She won’t be actively involving herself in on-going cases, since that would technically be illegal, but she’s a great resource with a keen eye and an impressive education. Take that for what you will.”

The office laughed, and Laura chewed on her bottom lip.

“Anything you want to say, Laura?” The Sheriff turned to her.

Laura turned to the room full of deputies, her eyes sweeping out over them. Someone in this room was working with Gerard, working to undermine the authority of the Sheriff, and helping Gerard to do god knows what in Beacon Hills. Somewhere in the sea of heartbeats in front of her, Laura would find the traitor.

The only question was: did Gerard’s informant know about werewolves, and did they know about Gerard’s hatred of the Hale family?

It was possible that Gerard was blackmailing someone, holding something above someone’s head and forcing them to do his dirty work. It was also entirely possible that Gerard had brought someone into the world of hunters and supernatural creatures, manipulated them, and turned them to his side.

It was also possible that there was just an asshole out there who was like Gerard, who hated people and liked to cause suffering.

Either way, Laura would find them, and they would be one step closer to stopping Gerard for good.

Laura smiled, “I can’t wait to get to know all of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter, a little more chill and a lot less life threatening lol hopefully the content makes up for it ;)


	11. Outside...Looking In

 

Chapter Eleven

Outside…Looking In

 

Derek heard Laura before she even came into the library. Or rather, he heard the sound of Laura kissing Jordan before she came into the library. It would have made Derek cringe, but he was explicitly _not thinking_ about what Laura may have heard from him and Stiles last night, so he’d let it slide in the interest of fairness.

Derek finished signing the kid in front of him for his first library card, which was oddly the fifth kid of the day who’d signed up for their first library card, and found Laura grinning at him when he looked up.

“Can I help you?” Derek asked, leveling her with a look.

Laura stepped forward and cupped her mouth, leaning forward with a conspiratorial whisper, “Where do they keep the dirty stuff?”

Derek rolled his eyes, pressing his index finger into the center of Laura’s forehead and pushing her away, “Seven miles down the road in the seedy part of town, look for the flashing neon sign that says _girls, girls, girls_.”

“Scandalous!” Laura gasped, leaning her hip against the counter.

Derek cracked a half-smile, “Give me a few more minutes, I was just about to clock out.”

Laura nodded, giving him a two-finger salute before she turned on her heel and walked back out the front of the library. Derek logged off his computer, pulled off his nametag, and made his way to the back office of the library. He grabbed his bag from the back, swiped his card through the timeclock, and said his quick goodbyes before making his way out of the back room. He pulled his leather jacket on, instantly transforming himself from unassuming librarian to rampant street thug, at least that was what Stiles said.

Laura was leaning with her back against the side of the SUV, her fingers drumming against the polished black metal door.

“Exciting first day?” Derek asked, pulling the keys out of the pocket of his jacket.

“I met a few colorful individuals and learned that an armed robbery was once stopped with a single hot dog,” Laura pushed herself off the car, “but I didn’t manage to find Gerard’s mole.”

Derek reached out and squeezed the back of her neck, “It’s only your first day.”

“I know,” Laura opened the passenger’s door when Derek withdrew his hand and unlocked it, “it would have been pretty badass to figure it all out within a day though.”

Derek huffed out a laugh, rounding the front of the SUV and letting himself inside. He pulled the SUV from the curb after starting the engine, then made a quick U-turn to take them back to the apartment.

“Where’s Stiles?” Laura asked, looking over her shoulder into the back seat, “I figured he’d be beating down the door of the station to find out if I learned anything.”

“I’m sure he wanted to.” Derek said, “But he texted me earlier saying he wanted to go over and see Peter, something about clearing the air between them after the whole blood thing.”

“Aw.” Laura smiled sweetly, “I’m very proud of you, little brother.”

Derek arched an eyebrow, looking at Laura as he stopped at the red light, “What?”

“You just mentioned Stiles going to see Peter alone without that little stress vein popping out on your forehead.”

Derek glared at her, reaching up to poke at his forehead self-consciously, “I do not have a forehead stress vein.”

Laura tipped her head back and laughed, “You totally have a forehead stress vein.”

“Do not.” Derek muttered under his breath, “Anyway, I’m fine with Stiles seeing Peter, not that I would have any choice if I wasn’t. I stopped worrying that Peter was going to snap and kill him months ago.”

“Yet he still managed to piss you off that much yesterday.” Laura pointed out.

“Because he hurt Stiles’ feelings.” Derek said, realizing too late how bad that made him sound.

“It’s cute that you’re so protective.” Laura said, leaning over to kiss Derek on the cheek, “Love had done you good, pup.”

Derek felt his skin grow hot. The car behind him honked, and Derek jumped in his seat, startled by the sound. He slammed his foot on the gas to catch the green light before it turned again, the SUV lurching forward so quickly Laura let out a gasp.

“You heard that?” Derek said, mortified.

Derek didn’t look, but he could hear Laura lick her lips, and he could picture the devilish grin on her face, “I heard a lot last night.”

“Oh my god.” Derek groaned.

“I was close to telling you to turn on some music, I didn’t think I could take the sound of another breathy moan.” Laura gagged, “At least I’m kind enough to wait to have sex with Jordan until you’re out of the house.”

“We didn’t have sex!” Derek’s voice came out a little too high pitched for his liking, he took a deep breath, coughed, and tried again, “We didn’t have sex. We’re not. Yet.”

“I’m just messing with you, Der.” Laura poked him in the side, “Besides, we both know if you actually did I’d smell it more than anything.”

Derek looked longingly at the oncoming traffic on the other side of the road, wondering how many cars it would take hitting him to put him out of his misery.

 

X

 

Stiles had only been to Peter’s apartment a handful of times, most of those times involved him picking up books on magic, and there was that one memorable time where he had to shower off the smell of blood and charcoal before he went out to dinner with Derek.

Seriously, Peter was a lifesaver that day because Derek would have _flipped out_.

Stiles had never been to Peter’s apartment to apologize to him though, that was a new one. Apologies as a whole were a little foreign to Stiles, while he apologized to people he cared about when he knew he was in the wrong, he’d lived his life so far content to piss people off if they weren’t close to him.

Realizing Peter was close to him was startling, but it shouldn’t have been too surprising.

Peter had been nothing but nice to him, taught him things and helped him practice with five-hundred percent less cryptic bullshit than Deaton ever did. Hell, Peter had saved his life. He was close to Peter, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel like he’d done something wrong the night when he asked for Peter’s blood.

Deaton may have been right, Peter may view different types of magic differently than he did, but Stiles knew that if Peter saw something as dangerous then there was a reason for it. He might not understand it, but he couldn’t hold it against Peter. Sure, he felt like Peter _scolded_ him for asking in the first place, but Stiles couldn’t hold on to something petty like embarrassment and hurt feelings. He couldn’t risk driving Peter away, not when he genuinely cared about Peter as a friend and as a teacher.

Stiles took a deep breath, raised his hand, and knocked lightly on the door to Peter’s apartment. He could hear voices inside, so he knew Peter and Isaac were home. Peter probably would have heard him coming anyway.

The door opened, and Stiles stared at Isaac who stared at him in surprise.

“Stiles?” Isaac asked.

“Hey man.” Stiles smiled, “What’s up?”

“Nothing?” Isaac looked confused, “I didn’t except to see you here.”

“Oh.” Stiles frowned, “Sorry, I should have called or something.”

Isaac shook his head, “No, I mean…I thought you would be mad and wouldn’t want to see us. Or me.”

Isaac’s frown broke Stiles’ heart.

“You really thought I’d be mad at you for not wanting to give me your blood?” Stiles asked.

Isaac nodded, “I know it was important because of the whole monster thing, but the way Peter freaked out about it…”

Stiles cut him off, “Isaac, dude, I told you I wasn’t going to be mad. I totally meant it, your blood belongs to you, I can’t be mad at you for not wanting to give it to me. I’d be a pretty big asshole to get mad at my friend because he wouldn’t give me some of his blood.”

Isaac’s eyes went wide, “Friend?”

Cue Stiles’ heart breaking again.

“Totally!” Stiles tried giving Isaac his most reassuring smile, “You’re totally my friend, Isaac. I mean, unless you don’t want to be my friend, which is totally fine. You’re more than allowed to choose your own friends, and just because I declare us friends don’t mean that we have to be friends, or that you should feel obligated to be my friend. We can just settle for acquaintances who are bound together by supernatural craziness.”

“Stiles,” Isaac laughed softly, holding out a hand to stop him from rambling, “We…we can be friends. I’d like that.”

The tension from Isaac’s shoulders had bled out sometime during Stiles’ rant, he was holding himself less defensively and more open. It was something Stiles only realized because he’d never seen Isaac not hold himself defensively, with his body angled in a direction so it would be easier for him to run away if he needed to. He was standing in front of Stiles, directly facing him, his shoulders squared and relaxed.

“Sweet.” Stiles grinned, “You mind if I come inside?”

Isaac nodded, stepping back and opening the door wider so Stiles could enter.

Peter’s apartment looked homier than the last time Stiles was inside. It was softer, more lived in. It looked less like it came out of a catalogue and more like two living, breathing people inhabited it. There was a laptop on the table near the door that looked brand new, one that was a different color than the laptop Stiles knew Peter owned. A few bags from various stores inside the mall leaned against the wall near the door.

“Is Peter home?” Stiles asked.

“I’m in my office.” Peter’s voice called out from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“Office?” Stiles arched an eyebrow, “Since when does he have an office?”

Isaac laughed, “It’s the last room on the left down the hall, he just put it together a few days ago after the kitchen table snapped in half from the weight of all the books he kept stacking on top of it.”

Stiles sighed, “I told him not to buy that cheap table.”

Isaac walked over and picked the bags up from the ground, “I’m gonna go put these away.”

“Cool.” Stiles followed after him down the hall, “I need to talk to Peter for a second, but do you want to go hang out after? There’s this new ice cream shop downtown that I’ve been dying to try.”

Isaac looked startled for a second, but he quickly recovered, “Uh, yeah. Sure. My room’s right here, you can get me after you’re done with Peter?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Stiles grinned, watching Isaac walk through his door and dump out two bags of clothes onto his bed.

Stiles turned and walked a few feet down the hall, stopping in the doorway of Peter’s office. Peter’s office looked like an Urban Outfitter’s wet dream. Peter sat behind a heavy, dark oak desk and was backlit by the sun shining through the large open window behind him. His laptop was open in front of him, and the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard was the only sound in the room. There was a rolling brass cart over to the side that held various brands of whiskey and other alcohol, and next to that was a small table that a vintage record player sat on.

The left-hand side of the room was completely taken up by a bookshelf that stretched the length of the wall and crawled almost to the top of the room’s vaulted ceiling. There was a ladder attached to it by a track, complete with wheels to roll it across the wooden floor. Stiles could see dozens of books on magic, some Peter had let him read and some he hadn’t.

“How did you get that upstairs?” Stiles asked, pointing at the absurdly large bookshelf.

Peter looked up from his computer, his eyes flicking from Stiles to where he was pointing, “A little ingenuity and a black American Express card.”

“They give those to dead guys, huh?” Stiles grinned.

Peter scoffed, “Excuse you, Paul Hale is very much alive and well.”

“Well, _Paul_.” Stiles rolled his eyes, “Is Peter around? I wanted to talk to him about something.”

Peter closed the lid of his laptop and leaned back in his chair, laying his hands on his desk and steepling his fingers, “At your service.”

Stiles sighed, Peter’s pension for the dramatic was unrivaled. He walked across the room and pulled out the chair that was in front of Peter’s desk, dropping himself down into it and slouching. He almost kicked his feet up onto the desk, but it looked too expensive.

“I just wanted to say sorry.” Stiles said.

“For?” Peter asked, arching an eyebrow.

Stiles let out a long breath, the air rushing past his lips, “You’re really going to make this hard on me?”

“I’m not doing anything, Stiles.” Peter said seriously, “I’m not sure what you’ve done that you need to apologize for.”

“For last night.” Stiles clarified, “The whole asking for your blood thing, you got upset about it and I didn’t want us to be mad at each other over something like that.”

Peter’s expression softened, “I wasn’t mad at you, Stiles.”

“Oh.” Stiles frowned, “I thought you were.”

“Did you magically compel me to give you my blood?” Peter asked.

Stiles reeled back, “No!”

“Did you hold me down and take my blood by force?” Peter asked again.

Stiles gaped, “Peter, what the fuck? I’d never!”

“Exactly.” Peter nodded, “You asked me for my blood, I said no, and you respected my choice. I wasn’t angry that you asked, and all I did was explain to you that there are types of magic that you’re not familiar with. Blood magic is one of them, and it is incredibly dangerous. I know what you did last night didn’t count as blood magic, you simply needed a bit of life essence to key the spell to specific people, but I couldn’t overlook the possibility of something going wrong. I trust you, and I know you’d never do anything to hurt myself or Isaac, but I cannot ignore the possibility that our blood could fall into the wrong hands.”

“If I’d known it was that serious I never would have tried this spell, we could have figured out a different way to find out who the Aswang is.” Stiles frowned.

Peter shook his head, “Blood magic is incredibly rare, and it’s even more rare to come across a magic user who properly knows how to use it. I don’t think there’s any immediate danger, but I’ve lived far too long and have seen far too many things to risk even the smallest chance.”

“What have you seen?” Stiles asked, unable to control his curiosity.

“Mariska and I traveled the world for a few years before Joshua was born, we saw many things during that time.” Peter’s expression grew cloudy, “We were in China when either of us saw blood magic in use for the first time, we witnessed a shaman use the blood of the Alpha of a local pack to control her. She was completely at his will, and he used her to kill her entire pack because he wanted access to the valuable relics that they protected.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles whispered, “That’s horrible.”

“When he was done with her, he drained the blood from her body through her eyes and threw her away like garbage.” Peter glared at his desk.

“What happened to the shaman?” Stiles asked.

Peter smiled, a little fond and a little vicious, “He was so distracted reveling in his victory he didn’t hear Mariska and I approach, we subdued him, and Mariska kept him conscious with her magic as I ripped off each of his fingers and toes. He bled to death soon after.”

Stiles couldn’t help but look down at his hands. The same magic Mariska had used that day was inside of him. He pressed his palm to the center of his chest and his magic swelled, almost like it was reacting to the memory of what Peter described.

Peter cleared his throat, “In any case, we both know that you are not that shaman. I do appreciate that you came to apologize, but I promise there is nothing to apologize for.”

“OK.” Stiles said, smiling, “Good.”

Peter nodded, opening his laptop again, “I believe you owe Isaac some ice cream?”

Stiles laughed, standing up from the chair, “Yo, Isaac! You ready?”

Peter sighed, “Must you yell?”

Stiles didn’t answer, he just continued laughing and walked back out into the hallway. Isaac was standing by the front door, slipping a pair of what looked like new shoes on. He opened the door, and Stiles rushed forward to meet him.

“Isaac, bring me back some Rocky Road!” Peter called out from his office.

Isaac’s brow wrinkled, “Won’t it melt?”

“Stiles can keep it cold!” Peter yelled back as they stepped out into the hallway.

“I don’t think I know how to do that yet?” Stiles said.

Stiles could hear Peter’s grin as the door shut behind them, “You’ll figure it out!”

 

X

 

Allison’s father was almost completely shut down.

She’d never seen him like this. He barely spoke, he barely ate, and he spent the rest of his time cleaning, checking, and then re-checking all of their weapons. She’d watched her dad take his pistol apart, and then put it back together just to take it apart, three times in the last ten minutes.

Allison understood him, she really, really did. She understood the appeal to shutting down, of shutting everything and everyone out so she wouldn’t have to deal with her grief. She wanted to.

God did she want to.

But she couldn’t. Or rather, she wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t shut down, she wouldn’t let herself go to that dark place, because if she did, if she let go and let her emotions get the best of her, then Gerard would be one step closer to winning.

The desire for revenge, the deep, dark, burning desire to see Gerard pay for everything he’d ever done was what was driving her.

It was the only thing driving her.

Going to Scott might have been a mistake, but at least it allowed her to see that she needed to take her emotions out of this if she was going to get the job done. She’d felt herself cracking, crumbling under the weight of death in the same way buildings in town did during the earthquake.

 She couldn’t do what needed to be done if she was shattered.

“Dad?” Allison called out into the basement, “Do you want something to eat?”

Her father briefly looked up, only to turn his head back down towards the half-dismantled gun, “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“OK.” Allison said softly, “I’ll be upstairs if you need anything.”

His only response was a short hum, and then the sound of metal sliding against metal.

She sighed, turning on her heel and heading back up the stairs. The sound of her steps rang hollow as she made her way up, she opened the door to the basement and headed towards the kitchen. She stood in the middle of the room, aimlessly wondering what to do next. She wasn’t hungry, so she opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

Gerard was on the other side of the door when she closed it. She didn’t startle, but it was a close thing.

“Grandpa.” Allison laughed, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Allison, I wanted to talk to you.” Gerard said.

“About what?” Allison asked.

“I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you.” Gerard said, as close to smiling as he ever got, “You’ve handled yourself very well since you learned of what happened to your mother, you’re not letting it destroy you.”

_Like your father._

Allison took a deep breath, “It hurts. But…I know she wouldn’t want me to let this stop anything. She died doing something she believed in, and I think it would be a dishonor to her memory if I didn’t keep going for her.”

“Spoken like a true Argent.” Gerard said, “You remind me so much of Kate, it almost takes my breath away.”

Allison fought back every impulse to make a fist. Allison fought back every impulse to gag. Allison fought back every impulse to headbutt Gerard in his face, break his nose, and stab him in the gut with the fruit knife on the counter.

She managed the best smile she could, and didn’t flinch when Gerard dropped a hand onto her shoulder.

“I want to show you something.” Gerard said, squeezing, “Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Allison asked, eyeing Gerard’s hand as he grabbed his keys from the counter.

Gerard’s only reply was, “Somewhere interesting.”

That alone was enough to set off warning bells in Allison’s head, but she had no credible reason to say no to Gerard’s request.

“Give me one second, I just have to go to the bathroom.” Allison said, turning for the stairs.

“Be quick.” Gerard called over his shoulder as he walked to the front door.

Allison made her way upstairs, bypassing the bathroom for her room. She dropped to her knees, reached under her bed, and pulled out the trunk of weapons she kept under there for a rainy day. Most of what was inside was too big to be carried without suspicion, but she did have two sets of knives that she could strap to her back and slide down the inside of her boot. She briefly toyed with bringing the small pistol with her, but it would do more harm than good if Gerard found it on her, so she left it in the case.

She grabbed the ring Stiles had given her to use in case of an emergency before she closed the door to her room.

Gerard was already behind the wheel of one of the SUV’s when Allison made her way down to the driveway. She hopped into the side door, buckled herself in, and watched the road as Gerard drove. She made note of every street sign they passed, remembered where they turned left instead of right, and where they turned right instead of left.

Beacon Hills quickly disappeared behind them, and Allison realized they were heading out into the preserve. It was still daylight, so she knew the odds were slim that Gerard was taking her on an impromptu hunt.

Trees grew thicker, and the spaces between homes grew wider as they drove.

“Where are we going?” Allison asked after an unbearable stretch of silence.

Gerard never took his eyes off the road, “You’ll see soon enough.”

Which was far from a reassuring answer.

Allison’s mind was racing, trying to figure out if Gerard had uncovered her plot to take him down. Did he know she went to see Scott? Did he realize she’d figured out his part in her mom’s death? Did he know about her contact with Stiles and the rest of the pack?

No, that couldn’t be it.

Allison knew she’d been careful, she knew she’d done everything she could possibly think of to keep her actions a secret.

The SUV began to slow, and Gerard pulled a sharp right turn onto a dirt road. The ride was rough, Allison found herself being tossed around in her seat as Gerard careened over potholes and rocks without abandon. They traveled about a mile down the road until a small wooden cabin came into view.

She’d never seen the cabin before, and she knew her parents didn’t own one in the area. It must have been Gerard’s, or maybe it was Kate’s. It seemed like the kind of out of the way creepy location that Kate would like.

“What is this?” Allison asked as Gerard put the SUV into park and killed the engine.

Gerard undid his seatbelt, opened the door, and got out of the vehicle, “Go inside and find out.”

Allison got out of the car, making a note of the fact that Gerard hung back until she was walking in front of him. Her eyes scanned her surroundings, trying to search for any sign of other footprints in the dirt that could give her a heads up on a possible ambush. She eyed the tree line to watch for any flashes from scopes or muzzles, but she couldn’t see anything.

The porch to the cabin was just as unstable as the rest of the building, the boards flexed downwards under her feet as she walked across them, threatening to cave in as she moved. The house itself seemed to move with the wind, shifting slightly depending on the direction a gust came from. It all looked about five seconds from collapsing in on itself.

The handle was hanging limply on the front door, she reached out slowly and turned it. It groaned, the sound of rusted metal bits scraping against each other. Maybe Gerard’s plan was to lure her out into the woods and give her tetanus, that would be a hell of a way to go.

Allison opened the door and stepped into the cabin, the smell of rotted wood greeted her. She expected that part, what she didn’t expect was the coffin sitting in the middle of the single room inside the cabin. The cabin was completely bare, nothing on the walls, no rugs or carpets, no furniture, just a single, gleaming black coffin sitting in the dead center of the room.

It really wasn’t a reassuring sign.

The door slammed shut behind her with a loud thud, surprising her enough to make her jump. Her heart was hammering behind her ribs, and Gerard was leaning against the door with both his arms crossed over his chest. She almost reached for the knife at her back, but she didn’t want to give herself away if she didn’t have to.

“Open it.” Gerard said, flicking his head at the casket.

Allison walked towards the casket, already trying to figure out what to do if Gerard tried to push her inside of it. She’d stab an old man without a second thought, she wasn’t being buried alive. She kept her body partly angled towards Gerard as she reached out for the clasp on the top half of the coffin, and she took a deep breath as she made her decision to undo it. No matter which way it went, there would be no going back once she opened it.

Allison opened the coffin, and whatever was inside was the last thing she could have expected.

It was a body, or at least it _had been_ a body. Whatever was there now was decayed, rotting so badly that it was collapsing in on itself as if it didn’t have any bones under the skin to support it. The face of the body was simply a crater, and the hands and arms were an uncomfortable looking brown mush.

It didn’t smell though, which was the strange part. Allison had seen enough dead things to know that when they reached this stage of decomposition the smell alone would have her losing her breakfast, lunch, and the idea of dinner in one fell swoop. But this body smelled almost pleasant, like bananas even.

Allison turned to face Gerard, “What is this?”

“That, my dear, is the handiwork of the new nasty we have in this despicable town.” Gerard’s fists clenched and then relaxed, “I told you there was something new here, and this is what it leaves behind.”

“Where did you get this?” Allison asked, knowing that Gerard didn’t just have a coffin lying around for use on short hand notice.

“It pays to have friends in a funeral home, he alerted me to this one after the body in the morgue became inaccessible.” Gerard said.

Allison blinked at the coffin, “This is one of the kids that died?”

Gerard nodded.

Allison gaped at him, “You took someone’s body away from their family?”

Allison thought she was past the point of being surprised by something Gerard did, but this was a new one.

“That body is not their son.” Gerard said callously, his voice dripping with condemnation, “This is what is left over after a monster kills and eats its prey, it’s no more human than a dead opossum on the side of the road.”

“So they just buried an empty casket?” Allison asked.

“Of course not.” Gerard scoffed, “They were going to cremate it anyway, I thought it would be of better use to us.”

Allison sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Alright. What are we after?”

Gerard smiled, a real one this time, it was as cruel and calculating as Allison always knew it would be.

 

X

 

Stiles tossed and turned in his bed, groaning uncomfortably as the ice cream in his stomach moved with him. He knew instinctively that he should have stopped after the second pint, but the look of pure delight on Isaac’s face kept him going. It was seriously some Charlie and the Chocolate Factory shit.

Minus the murderous Oompa-Loompas.

Isaac’s joy led to Stiles’ misery, and Stiles was for once glad that Derek wasn’t staying over because he’d like to preserve a little bit of his dignity and moaning in discomfort every few seconds took away a little bit of his dignity every single time.

It was almost two in the morning, and just as Stiles decided to make a serious effort to go to sleep, his phone rang.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Stiles growled, flopping his body over on its side so he could paw blindly at his nightstand until he found his phone.

He flipped the phone, just barely stopped a hiss from coming out at the bright light that burnt his corneas, and froze when he saw the name. Lydia was the one calling him at two in the morning, and if Stiles had learned anything it was that getting a call from a banshee in the middle of the night was never a good thing.

Stiles answered the phone, trying for casual, “Hey, Lyds! What’s up?”

He failed at casual.

“Stiles.” Lydia’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Lydia, what’s wrong?” Stiles asked, sitting up in bed.

“I’m outside.” Lydia said.

“Outside?” Stiles hopped out of bed, “Outside of where?”

“Your house. Backyard. Under your window.”

Stiles fumbled through the dark for a moment before he turned his lamp on. He made his way towards his window and drew the blinds when he got there, he looked outside to see Lydia standing in the middle of his backyard with her phone pressed against her ear. She was clearly dressed for bed, sweatpants and a loose cotton shirt, and she wasn’t wearing any shoes.

Her skin was pale, making the shock of red hair stick out even more, and Stiles could see a streak of pure white in the front of her hair even from the distance between them.

“Hold on,” Stiles said, stepping back from the window, “I’m coming down to you.”

“Hurry. We have to go.” Lydia said, “Now.”

“Why?” Stiles asked, still looking down at Lydia.

Lydia looked back up at him, her eyes flashing a bright green color, “Something bad happened.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! look forward to the comments!


	12. Holy Hell

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

Holy Hell

 

Stiles and Derek stood patiently off to the side while Lydia changed inside the Jeep. Stiles’ first call after going down to meet Lydia in his backyard was to Derek, that call was for backup. Stiles’ second call after going down to meet Lydia in his backyard was also to Derek, that call was to ask if he could borrow some of Laura’s clothes and shoes for Lydia. Something told Stiles that once Lydia came back to herself she wouldn’t want to be running around wherever she was taking them in sweatpants and no shoes.

Stiles was right, as usual.

The door to the Jeep opened, and Stiles looked over his shoulder to briefly see Lydia’s legs swing out the side as she reached down to pick up a pair of Laura’s ankle boots that Derek brought for her. He’d actually brought about ten pairs of shoes, bless his heart, so Stiles was glad at least one of them fit Lydia.

“You all good in there, Lyds?” Stiles called out.

“Peachy.” Lydia’s clipped response came back, “Changing clothes in the back of your Jeep is exactly what I wanted to do at two in the morning.”

“You’re the one who came to me with a creepy banshee premonition.” Stiles pointed out.

The door to the Jeep slammed, and Lydia’s footsteps echoed across the asphalt as she walked towards them, “It’s not a premonition, whatever happened already happened, there’s nothing for us to stop.”

Lydia was dressed in one of Laura’s basic shirts and a pair of dark jeans that were rolled up at the ankle, they fit reasonably well despite the height difference between the two of them. Laura probably could have picked something better, but she was off patrolling the Preserve with Scott and Erica.

Stiles sighed, pointing at the building in front of them, “Do we really have to go in there?”

Derek and Lydia sighed in unison, “Yes, Stiles.”

Stiles grimaced, “Are you sure? Like, are you really, really sure? I can think of a lot of less creepy places I’d rather be at two in the morning. Places that aren’t creepy on their own, outside of supernatural feelings of death and destruction.”

“It’s just a church, Stiles.” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s not _just_ a church, Derek! It’s the creepiest church in all of Beacon Hills!” Stiles flailed.

It wasn’t even a church, per say. It was closer to a cathedral, it was one of the grandest buildings in Beacon Hills, and the fact that it sat on the outskirts of town at the end of a long, winding road didn’t make it any better. Stiles had often wondered how such a church came to be built in Beacon Hills, he’d always remembered it being there, even if he never went near it after that terrifying night he and Scott snuck inside.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Lydia said, shouldering her way between Stiles and Derek, and marching towards the front door of the church.

“Come on.” Derek said, softly placing a hand at the small of Stiles’ back, “I won’t let the creepy church hurt you.”

“So you agree, you think it’s creepy?” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded, “A little.”

“Thank god.” Stiles huffed out a laugh, feeling a little vindicated.

The walk up to the church was unnerving. The building itself was pure white, minus the wooden arches over the front of the door and the large stained-glass windows that stretched across the front of the church. The night was quiet, completely still and devoid of any life. The stone angel statue in the courtyard loomed over them as they walked forward, its wings outstretched and its arms reaching towards the heavens with a serene look on its face.

Stiles made a point to keep his eyes on it at all times, he’d seen one too many episodes of Doctor Who.

They walked through the courtyard and up the stone staircase that led to the large double doors of the cathedral. Lydia stopped in front of them, her hand hovering over the iron handle as she waited for Derek and Stiles to catch up.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Derek asked.

“Death.” Lydia said, “A lot of death. I can still hear the screaming, it sounds like its coming from the other side of this door. It’s so loud, and it won’t _stop_.”

A chill ran up Stiles’ spine. He looked at Derek, who nodded, and then he closed his eyes and reached out for the magic inside himself. It was where it always felt like it was, nestled in the center of his chest like a warm fire. He concentrated, calling it out until it unspooled itself and traveled through his body, waking him even further with a jolt of power.

The three of them were wearing their Aswang necklaces, but so far none of them had been set off by the creature’s presence. Stiles wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but maybe they’d find out if the necklaces even worked.

“Do you smell anything?” Stiles asked Derek.

Derek inhaled deeply, and his nose wrinkled, “There’s…something there, but I can’t tell from out here. This building is old, it’s so covered in scent that I can’t make out anything through the walls.”

Lydia’s hand wrapped around the handle, but Stiles stopped her before she could open the door, “Hold on, I want to try something.”

Lydia looked at him curiously, but she withdrew her hand and waited.

Stiles closed his eyes and pressed his palms together. He envisioned a bright fire smoldering between his hands, and then pictured himself reaching into the fire and pulling out three burning orbs of energy. He opened his eyes and slowly pulled his hands apart, leaving about a foot of distance between them as three identical orbs of red energy filled the space between his hands.

Stiles took a deep breath and willed the words out of his mouth, “ _Protect_.”

He felt his magic spark in his throat, almost like he’d swallowed something acidic. He blew out a long stream of air that seemed to swirl around the orbs, wrapping around them and disappearing into the balls of energy. One ball stayed near Stiles, but the other two drifted towards Derek and Lydia. They lingered for a moment, and then flickered out of existence.

“What was that?” Derek asked, his eyes shining with curiosity.

“I read about it in one of Peter’s books today after I hung out with Isaac.” Stiles explained, “It’s sort of a more offensive version of a protective spell, but it’s only got one use. I can’t really think of a better place to practice with it than the creepy church of death.”

“Are we ready now?” Lydia asked, turning back to the door.

Stiles shrugged, “No time like the present.”

The door groaned when Lydia opened it, because of course it would. The interior of the church was dark, the only light that Stiles could make out were the flickering of candles up near the pulpit. Stiles turned to look at Derek and found him half shifted, his eyes blazing electric blue.

“Der?” Stiles asked softly.

Derek was quiet for a moment, then shook his head, “I smell blood. A lot of it.”

“Wonderful.” Lydia hefted the flashlight she stole from the back of Stiles’ Jeep and clicked it on, illuminating the inside of the church with a heavy beam of light.

Derek stepped around them both and walked into the church first. It was probably for the best, he didn’t need the flashlight to see and he was the least destructible one out of the three if something rushed them from the front. Lydia followed after him, and Stiles filed in after her. Lydia’s flashlight moved across the church in large swaths, like she was looking for the source of the feeling of death and the smell of blood.

“It’s not in the cathedral.” Derek whispered.

Stiles tried to fight against the feeling of dread that prickled against the back of his neck. He wasn’t a banshee, but he didn’t need to be one to know that they were in somewhere terrifying. The pews of the church were lined up evenly, nothing knocked askew, but there was a bible sitting on the ground that was torn in half.

“That’s comforting.” Stiles whispered.

There was a large cross suspended from the ceiling with silver chains, Stiles kept his eyes on it, not trusting that there wasn’t something perched up there.

“Can you find where it’s coming from? Lydia asked Derek.

Derek nodded, pointing to a door that was cracked open off to the left of the pulpit. They made their way towards it, but Stiles stopped before they went through it. He turned back towards the cathedral, focused on all the candles in the church, and imagined them all being lit. It took a fair bit of concentration, but Stiles blinked after a few seconds, and all the candles flickered to life with orange flames.

“Impressive.” Lydia said sincerely.

“I figured some light would come in handy if we have to run away really fast.” Stiles admitted.

Derek nudged the door open with the toe of his shoe, and sucked in another deep breath. His fangs grew even more, and his claws popped out on instinct. He looked over his shoulder and nodded, pointing to the dark corridor in front of them.

It was a long hallway, and the only source of light was something flickering from an open doorway at the very end of the hall. From the sound that accompanied it, Stiles figured there was a TV playing inside the room. The music coming from the room was upbeat and happy, it sounded like an old cartoon.

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when the distinct[ laugh of Woody Woodpecker](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s637-5A9Gro) echoed around the dark hallway.

Stiles froze, “That is the creepiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Lydia turned the flashlight down the hallway, and even from a couple hundred feet away Stiles could make out the large spray of blood on the wall directly opposite of the room with the TV.

“I think we found what we’re looking for.” Lydia whispered.

“Stay close to me.” Derek said as he started to walk forwards.

The hallway was quiet, nothing but the sound of their shoes on the tile and the laugh of a cartoon bird breaking the silence. Stiles couldn’t hear any sounds of people, or the sound of a monster chewing on people, but he still didn’t want to see what was inside the room.

The closer they got, Stiles started to think that he could smell the death. It hung heavy in the air, the scent of iron clinging to everything. Derek was the first to make it to the doorway, his jaw dropped as he stopped in his tracks. Lydia was the next to make it to the doorway, and she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth to cover it. Stiles made it there last, and he was mentally prepared for something terrible, but not as terrible as what was actually in front of him.

The room was almost completely covered in blood. The walls, the ceiling, the furniture in the room, they were all bathed in thick red. The screen of the TV was covered with a thin layer of blood, the images of Woody Woodpecker jumping through trees was caught behind a red filter.

There were at least four bodies in the room, but Stiles couldn’t actually be sure of that number because they were torn to pieces. One body was completely bisected, the top half on one side of the room, entrails hanging out, and the bottom half propped against the wall near the TV. Another one was missing a head, and Stiles was pretty sure that the head sitting on the seat of a recliner belonged to it.

There were various limbs thrown across the room, arms and legs tossed in different directions. Each body that Stiles could see was covered in deep gashes, claw marks that tore through skin all the way down to the bone.

“Oh god.” Stiles mumbled, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

He looked down just in time to realize that he was standing in a pool of blood, he tried to back away, but he slipped and fell to the ground. His head hit the tile, and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he gasped in pain.

When Stiles opened his eyes, they met a single eyeball that had been torn from a head.

Derek hauled him to his feet, and Stiles immediately wrapped his arms around him and buried his head into Derek’s chest. He’d seen a lot since the whole werewolf business began, some of it in person and some of it in his dreams, but nothing quite compared to what was inside that room. Derek pulled him closer, and Stiles leaned into him even more when Derek’s hand started to rub soothing circles into his back.

“We need to get out of here.” Lydia said, “We need to call the Sheriff.”

Stiles pulled his head away from Derek’s chest and looked at Lydia over his shoulder, “Oh joy, another fake serial killer to announce to the press.”

“She’s right.” Derek’s chest rumbled as he spoke, “Someone will find this in the morning, and it’s better if your dad is the one to get on it beforehand.”

Stiles extricated himself from Derek’s limbs and turned his back towards the room, “I knew I should have woken him up before I left. He’s going to be so pissed.”

“It’ll be OK.” Derek said softly, “Let’s go, I can’t stand this smell anymore.”

Derek took up the front again as they left the hallway. They left the room behind them, but it still felt like they were being taunted by the laughter of the TV. The cathedral was still lit by the candles when they reached it, and Stiles couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to be out of the building entirely. He was practically pushing Derek in an effort to get him to walk faster.

They made it to the front door of the church, and just as Stiles was about to turn and put the candles out, he felt something strange. It wasn’t immediately noticeable, but it was a slow warm sensation on his chest, it almost felt like something was vibrating.

“Do you feel that?” Lydia asked.

It took a moment to register, but when Stiles realized what was happening his eyes went wide. He looked down, wrapped his fingers around the black string that hung from his neck, and pulled the necklace out from under his shirt. He held it up to the light, and he could see that the liquid inside was bubbling. Lydia and Derek did the same, and they all turned to look at each other.

Before Stiles could say anything, Derek was grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him to the side, “It’s coming!”

Stiles grabbed Lydia and pulled her with him just as the stained-glass windows above them shattered, raining down thousands of shards of colored glass. Stiles only had a split second to shield them with his magic, he thrust his hands upwards and imagined a barrier similar to a large umbrella over the three of them. The glass fell from the ceiling, but it bounced off and to the side when it came into contact with Stiles’ magical barrier.

The glass kept falling, and Stiles strained under the weight of his magic as he tried to keep the barrier up until they could get to safety. He held the barrier even as Derek grabbed him and Lydia by the midsections and hauled them to the side of the cathedral, only letting it drop once he was sure they were out of the impact range of the glass.

“Where is it?” Stiles yelled, his head twisting in every direction as he looked for the Aswang.

He could hear the sound of wings flapping overhead in the cathedral, but he couldn’t see anything. The downdraft from the Aswang’s wings started to extinguish the candles that Stiles had lit, plunging the interior into even deeper darkness. 

“Up there!” Lydia’s flashlight swung across the roof of the chapel, catching the tail end of the Aswang before it disappeared back into the shadows.

“Derek?” Stiles yelled, pushing himself up from the ground.

“Stay alert!” Derek growled, his Beta shift complete.

Chains rattled overhead, and Stiles looked up at the cross suspended from the top of the room began to sway. Lydia aimed her flashlight at it, and the Aswang let out a deafening screech as the light illuminated its pale face. Its long talons were dug into one arm of the cross, while one of its wings was wrapped around the top part holding itself in place.

“We’re safer in here,” Lydia’s voice dropped to barely a whisper, “it can’t get much high ground over us because we’re inside, if we have to fight outside we’re at an even bigger disadvantage.”

The flashlight focused back on the Aswang, and it hissed before opening its mouth and letting its long, razor sharp tongue lull out of its mouth. It moved like a snake in front of the Aswang’s body, almost as if it had a mind of its own. Splashes of red were thrown across the pale skin of the Aswang, most likely from the bodies in the other room.

“We need to bring it down to our level.” Derek said, flexing his claws, “Get it grounded.”

“On it.” Stiles nodded, turning back to the pile of broken glass behind them.

Stiles thrust both hands out and focused on a few of the bigger shards of glass in one of the piles. The glass began to rumble and slip away as Stiles lifted several large sheets of glass and held them suspended in the air. He’d only have one shot to surprise the Aswang, so he spun quickly and let go of the shards of glass when they picked up enough momentum.

The glass cut through the air, heading straight for the Aswang. It realized what was happening a second too late, and one of the sheets of glass sliced through its leg just as it pushed off of the cross. Stiles shoved his hand out to try and recapture the piece of glass, it took a bit of focus, but he felt his magic wrap around it to bring the glass back under his control. He jerked his hand through the air, pulling the glass with it as it sailed after the Aswang. It tried to dodge the impact by flying higher, but Stiles was ready for that. He tipped the shard of glass upwards, lodging it in the left side of the chest of the Aswang.  

The Aswang screamed again, this time dropping down a few feet from the ceiling. It was within Derek’s reach now, he bolted forward with a quick sprint, hopped onto one of the pews, and launched himself in the air towards the Aswang. The Aswang was so focused on trying to get the glass out of its chest that it didn’t see Derek coming. It let out a surprise hiss when Derek tackled into it mid-air, and it screamed again when Derek’s claws dug into its legs.

Derek was trying to pull it down to the ground. His claws tore through the skin on the Aswang’s legs as gravity pulled him back down to earth. The Aswang was frantically flapping its wings, trying to pull itself back up into the air, but it was struggling against Derek’s weight on its lower half.

That was when its tongue shot out of its mouth. Derek screamed in pain as the razor-sharp tongue speared itself into his shoulder. It ripped itself out, only to stab him again in the opposite shoulder. Derek was trying to hold on, trying to bring the Aswang down with him, but he was losing the fight.

“Derek!” Stiles yelled, “Let go!”

“I’ve got it!” Derek growled furiously as the tongue ripped into his flesh again.

“Just drop down! I’ve got this!” Lydia turned to Stiles, “Give me a distraction.”

Stiles frantically looked around for something he could use. He was weighing the idea of trying to lift a pew and throw it at the Aswang when it hit him. He didn’t need to find a distraction, he already had something ready to go.

Stiles took a deep breath, focused on the Aswang, and shouted, “Protection!”

The orbs that he’d conjured earlier returned, blinking back to life next to each person he cast them on. Two appeared between himself and Lydia, and the final one appeared right above Derek’s head, the closest one to the Aswang. The orb near Derek was the first to impact, it shot up into the air and then fell back down directly on top of the Aswang. It ignited into a tower of flame and sparks, which was enough to get Derek to let go and drop down to the ground.

The two between him and Lydia flew off next, slamming into each of the Aswang’s wings and bursting into flames. Lydia took that as her cue, she ran forward and stopped right next to Derek, looking up and letting out a blood curdling scream. The scream hit the Aswang, smothering the flames on its body and sending it flying up towards the roof of the church. It slammed into the cross, knocking loose one of the chains that kept it suspended.

The Aswang fell to the ground with a loud thump, the tile cracking around its impact. It fell near the pulpit, just a few hundred feet between where Lydia and Derek were. Stiles ran towards them, skidding to a stop when he was next to Derek.

“Oh my god!” Stiles gasped, seeing the amount of blood that was soaking Derek’s clothes, “Are you OK? Please tell me you’re OK.”

Derek took the hand that Stiles offered him, and Stiles grunted as he tried to lift Derek’s body weight, “I’m fine. It’s already healing.”

Lydia eyed him dubiously, “You don’t look fine.”

“I said I’m fine as in I’m not dying.” Derek’s electric blue eyes glared at her, “I didn’t say I wasn’t in pain.”

Stiles’ reply was cut off by the sound of scraping coming from behind the pulpit. He looked up to see the Aswang standing, half of the white skin on its face charred black. It stretched out its wings, but it couldn’t take flight because of the hole that had been burnt into one of the wings.

“That solves one problem.” Stiles said.

“It doesn’t need to fly to kill us.” Derek grunted, cracking his neck and readying himself for another attack.

The Aswang used its one good wing to give it more height when it jumped. It sprung up into the air, flapping its undamaged wing, and then landed in front of the three of them. Lydia jumped backwards, steadied herself, and let out another scream. The tiles on the floor cracked in its wake as the force of the scream traveled towards the Aswang, but it was ready this time. It jumped out of the way, just missing the impact by a hair’s breadth, and whipped its tongue towards Lydia.

Lydia ducked, and Stiles picked up a spare bible on the ground and threw it at the Aswang to distract it. The Aswang turned its attention from Lydia to Stiles, and Stiles tried to keep it distracted while Derek circled around to attack from the side.

“You’re not so scary, huh?” Stiles taunted, bouncing back and forth on his feet.

The Aswang stalked forward, grabbing hold on one of the pews as it moved. It jerked the pew, knocking the others out of the way as it headed straight for Stiles’ knees. Stiles let out a yelp as he stumbled backwards, he threw up another magical barrier that barely stopped the collision.

Derek’s wild growl echoed through the church, and Stiles looked over the top of the pew to see Derek throw himself at the Aswang again. He didn’t try to tackle it though, he dashed in, swept his claws across the Aswang’s flank, and then moved out of range when it tried to lash him with its tongue. He kept circling it, jumping back a few feet every time the Aswang lunged for him.

Stiles was starting to get worried through. Derek seemed like he was slowing down, and even though he’d said he was healing, Stiles couldn’t help but think there was even more blood on his shirt than there was before.

“Something isn’t right.” Stiles said to Lydia, “There’s something wrong with Derek.”

“We need to get out of here.” Lydia looked over her shoulder at the door of the church, “It can’t fly, so if we can make it to the Jeep we should be fine.”

“We just need a way out.”

Stiles scanned the room looking for something they could use to stop the Aswang long enough to get away. He could try to light the candles again and use them against the Aswang, but that also risked them getting caught in a burning church if they couldn’t make it out themselves. There had to be something else.

That’s when Stiles saw it.

The cross was still hanging crookedly from the roof of the church, dangling precariously by a single metal chain. It was swaying back and forth, and the more that Derek pushed the Aswang backwards, the closer it came to being directly underneath the cross.

“Derek!” Stiles called out, pointing up at the cross and then back down at the ground.

Derek’s face was too pale for Stiles’ liking, but he nodded in what seemed to be realization. He ducked and tackled into the midsection of the Aswang, punching it repeatedly in the stomach. The Aswang gasped for air, scrambling against Derek’s attack. Derek drove his forehead into the center of the Aswang’s chest, and Stiles heard an audible crack of a sternum as it fell back onto the ground.

Stiles knew he had his opening. He pulled at the cross with his magic, ripping it from its chain and releasing it as it started to fall. It twisted in the air, falling sideways on top of the Aswang as it hit the ground.

“Let’s go!” Stiles grabbed Derek by the arm and pulled him towards the door.

The Aswang probably wasn’t dead, but Stiles didn’t want to waste the time they’d bought themselves to check. Derek stumbled along as Stiles pulled him, tripping over broken glass as Lydia ripped open the front doors of the church.

“Lydia, I need your help.” Stiles yelled.

Lydia took Derek’s left-hand side, slipping his arm around her shoulder. Stiles took the right, and they ran as fast as they could towards the Jeep while trying to support Derek’s weight. When they made it to the Jeep, Stiles took over holding Derek up while Lydia opened the back door. She crawled inside and then moved over so she could help pull Derek in. Stiles’ hands were covered in Derek’s blood, and the only thing that kept him from shaking apart was knowing that Derek could die if he didn’t keep it together.

Stiles slammed the back door and ran around the front of the Jeep, hopping in behind the wheel and cranking the engine. He tore out of the parking lot, no doubt leaving rubber marks on the asphalt.

“Stiles, I don’t think he’s healing.” Lydia said, worry laced in her voice.

Stiles looked in the rear-view mirror, he could see Lydia’s hands covered in blood.

“How is he not healing?” Stiles all but yelled.

“I don’t know.” Lydia was trying to stay calm, “You know more about werewolf anatomy than I do, try to think.”

Stiles grip on the steering wheel while white knuckled. He tried to concentrate, tried to think of everything Derek had ever told him. He searched through memory after memory until it clicked.

“They can’t heal if something is still causing the wound.” Stiles said, slamming his hand on the dashboard, leaving a bloody handprint in its wake.

“Something still…” Lydia trailed off, “There’s something inside his wounds!”

“Shit.” Stiles whispered, “We have to get him to Deaton.”

“I don’t know if we have time for Deaton.” Lydia said.

Stiles heard the sound of clothing tearing, and when he looked over his shoulder he found Lydia’s fingers prodding into Derek’s torn flesh. Derek let out a low whimper, and Stiles reached back to try and comfort him.

“Hang on for me, Der.” Stiles tried to sound like he wasn’t pleading, but it was a hard thing to do when you were sitting in an enclosed car in the middle of the road with your boyfriend bleeding in the backseat.

“There’s something in here.” Lydia looked up, “I can feel it.”

“Take it out!” Stiles yelled, “Take it out!”

“I’m trying!” Lydia hissed, “This isn’t some biology lab, Stiles.”

Stiles closed his mouth and let Lydia work. She added another hand, trying to pry open one of Derek’s wounds so she could see. Stiles hit the light in the middle of the roof to try and give her something to see by, and he could make out the frown on her face.

“Stiles, there are barbs in all of these wounds.” Lydia said softly, “I can’t take them out on my own, I risk ripping something crucial and causing him to bleed out.”

“Barbs?” Stiles repeated, “What the fuck?”

“They must be from the tongue.” Lydia said, “It’s the only thing I can think of, it’s probably a defense mechanism.”

“Shit.” Stiles repeated, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“We need someone who can take these out without hurting him any further.” Lydia said calmly, “We need Deaton.”

It wouldn’t work. They were too far away from Deaton’s office, and even if they were closer, the odds that Deaton were still there at this hour was low.

“We won’t make it to Deaton,” Stiles said, struck with realization, “but I know where we can go.”

 

X

 

Peter almost thought he was dreaming, but after thirty seconds he was pretty sure that the slamming on his front door was real. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and swung his feet to the ground. He yawned, dragging his hand through his hair as he made his way to the bedroom door. He didn’t bother with a shirt before stepping out into the hallway.

“Peter?” Isaac whispered, “Is everything OK?”

Peter could feel the fear coming off of Isaac. He wanted to reassure Isaac, to let him know that even if it was someone there to hurt him they’d have to get through Peter first. He held a single finger up to his lips, and then tipped his head to the side to better hear what was on the other side of the door.

Turns out he didn’t have to, the voice on the other side of the door was loud enough to hear, “Dammit, Peter! Open the door!”

“Is that Stiles?” Isaac asked, taking a step out of his room.

Peter nodded, and then he caught the scent of blood. The blood smelled like family, and if Stiles’ frantic voice was anything to go by, it meant the blood belonged to Derek. Peter ran forward, wrenching the door open and taking in the sight in front of him.

Derek’s body was precariously balanced between Stiles and Lydia. All three of them were covered in blood, but the blood only belonged to Derek. Peter reached out and took Derek from them, hefting his body up and cradling Derek to his chest.

“What happened?” Peter asked.

“Aswang.” Stiles answered.

“He’s not healing.” It wasn’t a question, the blood seeping onto Peter’s skin was evidence enough.

“It was the tongue.” Lydia explained, “I think its tongue is barbed, they broke off into Derek’s skin when it attacked him with it. I’ve found four so far, but they’re too deep for me to get out without causing him anymore harm.”

“We were closer to you than Deaton,” Stiles said, his voice shaking, “please tell me you can help him.”

Peter nodded. There was no way he’d let Derek die on his watch.

“Isaac,” Peter yelled down the hall, “I need your help. Please.”

Lydia and Stiles were too frantic to help in the way he needed someone to. Stiles was barely holding it together, and Lydia’s calm demeanor was cracking the longer she looked at the blood on her hands. He needed someone who would stay calm.

“Oh my god,” Isaac gasped, “is that Derek?”

Peter nodded once, “I need you to fill three bowls with hot water, and I also need as many rags as you can grab from the hall closet and the bathroom in the hallway.”

Isaac turned at once, darting down the hallway towards the bathroom. He needed to clean the blood away from Derek’s body to find out where it was coming from, only then he could get to work.

He carried Derek into the kitchen, swiping the few items that lingered on the kitchen table down onto the floor. He gently laid Derek’s body onto the table and extended a claw to cut away his shirt so he could take stock of the damage. Most of the wounds seemed concentrated on his shoulders and back, so he flipped Derek onto his stomach and took the first offered rag from Isaac. Isaac placed a bowl of hot water on the table and Peter dipped the rag in, then wiped it across Derek’s back to clear away the blood.

A few moments later, blood started to seep out of several of the wounds on his back. Now that Peter knew what he was dealing with, he could start fixing it.

“Stiles, I need you to come over here and keep Derek as calm as you possibly can.” Peter said softly, “Once I start, he isn’t going to like it.”

Stiles blinked at him for a few seconds, but shook his head and rushed over to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Derek’s head. He reached out to hold Derek’s hand, but Peter stopped him.

“Don’t.” Peter said, “He might break it.”

Stiles swallowed, “Right.”

Stiles settled for gently placing a hand on the side of Derek’s face, caressing his cheek gently.

“Lydia, I’m going to need your help as well.” Peter looked over his shoulder, “There are flashlights under the sink, bring one and hold it over Derek so I have more light.”

Lydia complied, and a moment later Derek’s back was illuminated.

“What about me?” Isaac asked.

Peter looked down at him, smiled, “Do you mind getting your hands dirty?”

Isaac was quiet for a moment, but he shook his head, “No. I want to help.”

Peter nodded, “I’m going to have to cut through his skin and muscle to get the barbs out, I need you to hold the flesh apart so it doesn’t start to heal over itself before I’m done. Can you do that?”

Isaac swallowed thickly, and his heart skipped in his chest, “I think?”

Peter extended his claws, took a deep breath, “Let’s get started.”

The first cut was easy, all he had to do was cut Derek’s skin away until it was down to the muscle. He could see one of the barbs embedded deep within the tissue, so he’d have to cut around it until it was safe to take out. He could do it in a way that caused minimal bleeding, Derek could not afford to lose much more blood.

As soon as Peter’s claw pierced the thick wall of muscle, Derek’s eyes flew open and he began to growl furiously. Peter kept cutting, trusting Stiles to take care of his nephew.

“Der, you’ve gotta stay calm for me, OK?” Stiles pleaded, “Please don’t move, Peter’s trying to help you.”

The muscle in Derek’s shoulder was almost completely cut in half by the time Peter was able to get to the barb, “Isaac, I need you to hold this apart until I tell you to let go.”

Isaac looked a bit squeamish, but he grasped the heavy flap of muscle and gritted his teeth while Peter tried to extricate the barb with the tips of his claws. He had to fight with it for a moment, but after a few twists it came free.

“OK, let go.” Peter said.

Isaac did, the muscle snapped back into place and began to heal immediately. Peter took a deep breath, folded the flap of skin he’d cut open back over, and watched as it began to close up.

“One down, three to go.”

The process took nearly half an hour, Peter had to cut far deeper for one of the barbs than he’d anticipated. Luckily, Derek passed out from the pain after the second barb was removed, which made his job much easier. Once Derek stopped struggling against him, Peter was able to remove the final two without much of a problem.

Peter dipped the final clean rag into the last bowl of water and wiped it across Derek’s back. Once the excess blood was cleared away, no more came to the surface. Derek’s back was crisscrossed with angry pink lines of freshly healed skin, but he would be fine come morning.

“He’s fine now.” Peter said softly, “He’ll be weak for a few hours after waking, but once his body produces enough new blood he’ll be back to normal.”

Stiles let out a single, gut wrenching sob, “Oh thank god.”

Peter looked at him, he managed a smile, “You made the right choice in bringing him here.”

Stiles didn’t reply, he just threw himself at Peter and wrapped his arms around his body. He clearly didn’t care about the blood, seeing as they were both covered in it. Peter gently returned the hug, patting Stiles on the top of the head before the hug broke and they both stepped away.

“I need a shower.” Lydia sighed, “And a drink.”

Peter smirked, “You and me both.”

Isaac was starting to busy himself with cleaning up the blood, but Peter stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“We can worry about that later.” Peter said quietly, “Thank you, Isaac. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You’re welcome.” Isaac said shyly, “I’m glad I could help.”

Peter ruffled his hair and then turned back to Stiles and Lydia, “Has anyone called Laura?”

Stiles went pale, “Oh shit. She’s going to be so mad.”

“Doubtful.” Peter said, “She’ll be happy that Derek is alive and well.”

“We also have to call the Sheriff and tell him what we found.” Lydia cocked her head to the side, “We also have to explain to him why we destroyed a church.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide, “Oh shit. He’s going to be so mad.”

“Probably.” Peter smirked, “I’ll make coffee.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i worked rly hard to make this chapter awesome lmao hope you guys enjoyed it! i look forward to the comments!


	13. Cover Story

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

Cover Story

 

The smell of blood permeated Peter’s apartment. It was so strong, Laura could smell it from the lobby. Her sense went into overdrive, she knew the blood belonged to Derek, and even though she knew he was safe, she couldn’t help but fear the worst.

Not a day went by that Laura didn’t worry about losing Derek, about having the last brother of hers violently ripped away from her in the same way the rest of her family was. She worried about the entire pack, worried that she would never be good enough to protect them. It was moments like this when the dark thoughts in her mind got to her, when she knew she wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or strong enough to lead in the same way her mother did.

Her mother was a powerhouse, a mountain of a woman who wouldn’t be moved for anything. Laura, on the other hand, felt like an ant pile. She felt like she could be torn down and destroyed by a simple thunderstorm, or a reckless child with a magnifying glass on a sunny day. Each drop of blood spilled by someone she loved was another tally against her, and she felt like the tally would never stop growing.

“Laura?” Scott’s hesitant voice came from behind her, “You OK?”

Laura took a deep breath, and then plastered a reassuring smile on her face, “Yeah, I’m good.”

The smile was so forced it was almost painful, she selfishly hoped Scott’s senses were so overwhelmed with everything else that he didn’t notice. Erica though, she was perceptive. One look at her told Laura that Erica saw right through her smile, and Laura felt deflated once again.

Scott made his way up the stairs, and Erica took up his previous spot, “I know you’re not OK, so I’m not going to ask if you are, but just know that we’re all here for you. You don’t have to pretend to be OK for us.”

Laura blinked at her, “How…”

Erica smiled softly, “I gave my parents that same smile almost every day of my life before I met you, I know a fake smile when I see one.”

Laura sighed, but Erica poked her in the ribs and dashed towards the stairs. Laura swatted at her a second too late, but she could feel the small smile on her face as she watched Erica disappear. She felt a little more settled, so she followed up after her. The door to Peter’s apartment was cracked open, and Laura could smell the familiar scent of a homemade cleaner her mom had come up with decades ago, mostly used to clean blood quickly and without the smell of bleach hanging around the house for days.

Oddly enough, the smell made Laura feel better. It reminded her of the time she and Derek had gotten so mad at each other that they destroyed two vases, a lamp, and broken a coffee table in half. There was blood all over the white sofa, and the homemade solution her mother made cleaned it spotlessly.

When Laura walked into the apartment, Isaac, Stiles, and Lydia were standing in a circle, all of them dressed in overly large clothes that Laura could tell once belonged to Peter. She could hear the washing machine running from deeper in the apartment. Derek was laying on top of a blanket that had been spread out along the couch, his chest was matted with dried blood, and he looked a little too pale for Laura’s liking, but she could hear his strong heartbeat. Peter was in the kitchen, his hands covered by rubber cleaning gloves with pink flowers painted on them.

“Laura!” Stiles yelped when he saw her, rushing over to her and wrapping her in a surprisingly tight hug.

Laura startled out a laugh, circling her arms around his back and hugging him tightly, “Are you OK?”

Stiles nodded, pushing gently away from her, “Yeah.”

“Lydia?” Laura asked, looking over Stiles’ shoulder.

“Peachy.” Lydia said, though her voice came out a little hoarse. Evidence that they’d been in a fight and she had to use her banshee scream.

“Drink your tea, Lydia.” Peter called from the kitchen, as if he could read Laura’s mind, “I can smell that it hasn’t been touched yet.”

Lydia rolled her eyes and sighed, picking up the steaming teacup next to her and grimacing as she swallowed whatever was inside it. Laura caught a whiff of it, and it didn’t smell pretty. Lydia stuck her tongue out, gagging, and then placed the teacup back in its previous spot.

“Some weird throat coat stuff Peter claimed a banshee in the Appalachian Mountains told him about.” Stiles said slyly, “Personally, I think Peter’s just out for revenge because she judged the shirt he gave to her.”

“How’s Derek?” Laura asked, walking over to the couch and dropping down in front of it.

She pressed the back of her hand to Derek’s forehead, relieved to find his skin was as hot as it normally was. She ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back into place, before she settled her head down on his chest. His heart thumped in her ear, and she could hear the steady pull of his lungs working.

“He’s going to be fine.” Stiles said softly, he sat down on the arm of the couch and rested a hand on top of Derek’s head, “Peter got everything out, so we’re just waiting for him to wake up now. He passed out during the…surgery?”

“What even happened?” Laura asked.

She’d somewhat blacked out after hearing Derek was hurt on the phone, she only had a vague recollection of what Stiles said after that. Something about Lydia, a church, and the Aswang.

“We followed one of Lydia’s banshee callings to that old church on the edge of town, which led us to a very disturbing room filled with a lot of blood and way more exposed entrails than I’d ever wanted to see in my life.” Stiles shuddered, “The Aswang showed up after that, we got into a fight that basically destroyed the church, which totally means I’m going to hell now, and then Der was stabbed with the Aswang’s tongue.”

“The Aswang, apparently, has a barbed tongue.” Peter said, walking over to the living room and stopping behind the couch, “The barbs broke off into Derek’s skin when the tongue was ripped out, and they were preventing him from healing. Some of them were rather deep, but I was able to get them all out so he could stat healing before he lost too much blood.”

Peter held up a coffee can and shook it, something rattled around inside.

Laura eyed the can. “Are those the barbs?”

Peter nodded, “You never know when you’re going to need a piece of something for a spell.”

Laura looked back at Derek and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. She felt better now that she’d been told he would be OK twice by people she trusted, she walked over to Peter and pulled him into another hug.

“Thank you, Uncle Peter.” Laura whispered.

Peter tensed for a moment, but slowly returned the hug, “You’re welcome. I would do it for any of you.”

Laura let the moment linger. Peter was never one for physical affection, unless it was Joshua or Mariska, so getting a hug back from him was rare. She often spent most of her time worrying about Derek, but she could feel she was taking Peter’s presence for granted. She wouldn’t keep making that mistake going forward.

“OK.” Laura said, taking another deep breath after her hug with Peter broke, “Do we have any information on the Aswang attack? You said it was messy?”

“Messy is an understatement.” Lydia said, “It wasn’t just an animal looking for food, it was a massacre.”

“How many?” Laura asked.

“Four?” Stiles tipped his head to the side, “Maybe five? It was hard to tell since they were all…”

Laura shook her head, stopping him from finishing the statement. It was clear that there was something fundamentally different between the second Aswang and the one that turned it. The first Aswang was a creature trying to survive, it had killed, but it was only doing it because that’s what it did. The second Aswang though, it was clearly killing for the sake of killing.

“Did anything else stand out to you?” Laura asked.

“The victims were all wearing the same shirt.” Lydia said, “It was something from the church itself, maybe a youth group?”

“I called my dad and told him, he was already on his way to the church.” Stiles cringed, “Apparently an early morning runner noticed something different and went to check it out…”

“You gave him the heads up?” Laura asked.

Stiles confirmed with a nod, “He knows what he’s walking into. He’s coming over here when he’s done at the scene, which should be soon.”

Laura looked over Stiles’ shoulder and into the kitchen, watching as Peter crouched down to scrub at the grout of the floor, Laura subtly pointed at him, “Is that why…”

Stiles looked over his shoulder at Peter and his eyes were wide when he turned back to Laura, “Oh god, you’ve noticed it too? I thought I was going crazy.”

“I think we might still be going crazy.” Laura huffed out a laugh.

A knock at the door drew their attention, Peter’s head turned towards the front door, “Come in, Noah.”

“Speak of the devil.” Stiles said, just as the Sheriff walked through the door.

The Sheriff looked every bit like a man who’d just been pulled out of bed to respond to a grisly crime scene. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was askew from where he’d been running a hand through it nervously. It was a habit Laura had picked up on pretty early, and it had only been getting worse lately.

The Sheriff’s eyes swung around the room until they landed on Stiles, “I need answers. Now.”

Stiles huffed out a small sigh, “Aswang.”

“That was all done by the _Aswang_?” The Sheriff pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Well, some of the destruction of property was us, but the blood and guts were totally the Aswang.” Stiles laughed.

“Stiles!” Noah snapped, “There are dead kids involved in this, it isn’t the time for your sense of humor.”

Stiles’ cheeks turned red, and he ducked his head in shame, “Sorry. I’m…coping.”

“Dammit.” The Sheriff sighed, walking over to Stiles and pulling him into a hug, “I know. I’m sorry. Tensions are running high.”

“Do we have any details on the kids who were killed?” Laura asked, “It might help us figure out if this was random or intentional.”

“Parents are still being notified, but from what we can tell it was a small group of youth leaders from the church setting up something for an upcoming Sunday School.” The Sheriff shook his head.

“Is there a rough time of death?” Peter asked from the kitchen.

The Sheriff’s eyes flicked to Peter and then away again, “Close to around midnight, maybe a little earlier.”

“Why were they at the church that late?” Stiles asked.

“We don’t know.” The Sheriff shook his head again, “We’re waiting to confirm identities and then we’ll reach out to the parents.”

“How many?” Erica asked.

“Five.” The Sheriff hung his head, “There were four inside the building, and we found another one out back. It looks like he tried to get away, but…it caught up to him just before he made it to the tree line.”

“Jesus.” Laura hissed, “What’s the official story?”

The Sheriff huffed out a bitter laugh, “Actually, one of my deputies gave a pretty good one unknowingly. She took one look at the claw marks on the wall and thought it was a bear attack.”

“A bear?” Stiles blinked, “That’s a new one, I thought we’d just go with the old faithful mountain lion.”

“A mountain lion couldn’t have torn those boys apart the way they were.” The Sheriff said, “A bear is the only thing that could conceivably do it, and there have been reports of them ever since the deaths from the Wendigo.”

“Which deputy was it?” Laura asked.

The Sheriff looked at her, “What?”

“Which deputy gave you the idea of a bear attack?” Laura cocked her head to the side, “It seems a bit convenient, don’t you think? Someone walks into a scene like that and just automatically thinks, _oh, it must be a bear!_ ”

“Laura, you can’t be serious.” The Sheriff said, incredulous.

“I am.” Laura held her ground, “You wanted me to keep an eye out for things I found suspicious, and I find this suspicious. If you tell me who she is, I’ll talk to her tomorrow and try to rule her out.”

“I gave her tomorrow off.” The Sheriff said, “But it was Deputy Collins.”

“Sandra?” Stiles asked, “Dude, there’s no way that Sandra is working for Gerard.”

“Tell that to Laura.” The Sheriff shrugged.

“Either way, it’ll be one more person to eliminate.”

“Alright.” The Sheriff waved his hand, “Have at it, she’ll be back on Monday.”

Laura nodded, and then her head snapped to the side. She heard a slight groan come from the living room, and then Derek’s head popped up from behind the front of the couch.

 

X

 

Derek groaned, feeling a splitting pain in his head. The first thing he thought of was a headache, which humans complained of constantly. If that was what a headache felt like, he didn’t understand why everyone didn’t want to be a werewolf.

He could hear people around him. He could pick up the scents of Stiles, Laura, and the rest of the pack. Worryingly, he could also smell his own blood. He cracked open one eye and grimaced when he looked down at his chest, it was covered in dry blood. The blood was caked onto his skin, matted into the chest hair that he was indifferent to but kept because Stiles loved it. His skin was paler than normal, and he connected the wobbly feeling in his head with the sight of his skin to come to the conclusion that he’d suffered from massive blood loss.

He draped his hand over his heart and felt it pounding behind his chest, working overtime to circulate more blood through his system. It would probably take him a few hours to recover completely if the sight of his skin and the fact that he couldn’t see any of his veins were an indication of how much blood he’d lost.

Derek thought back to how he’d lost the blood, and glimpses of the fight with the Aswang flashed in his head. He remembered the feeling of its tongue piercing his skin, and then the feeling that something wasn’t quite right when the tongue was ripped out of him. He kept fighting though, because fighting was what he did. He had to keep fighting to protect the people he cared about, and the boy he loved.

Laura’s voice was a nice, calming background noise that drew him out of his thoughts. Whatever the case, he was alive. Derek sat up, realizing he was on an unfamiliar couch. The room he was in was vaguely recognizable, but it didn’t jump out to him immediately. He only realized where he was when he inhaled deeply and found the combined scents of Peter and Isaac dominating almost everything else in the room. They’d taken him to Peter rather than Deaton, that alone told Derek how bad of a shape he must have been in.

“Derek!” Laura gasped, she rushed over to him and vaulted over the back of the couch, landing on the floor in front of it and nuzzling herself into his neck.

Derek slowly reached a hand up and grasped the back of her neck, squeezing it firmly, “Hey.”

Having Laura close, both because she was his sister and his Alpha, made Derek feel slightly better. He could feel the strong bond between them working as his heart started to pump a little bit harder, and he started to feel a little less cold.

Laura pulled back, placed a kiss on his forehead, and then settled herself onto the end of the couch. She picked his feet up and put them in her lap, draping her arms over them. Derek looked over the couch and locked eyes with Stiles.

Stiles smiled softly as he walked over, he walked around to the front of the couch instead of jumping it like Laura had, and perched on the arm of the couch. Derek leaned back into him, humming contently when he felt Stiles’ fingers start to thread through his hair.

“Are you OK?” Derek asked, looking up at Stiles.

“I should be asking you that, you big lug.” Stiles rolled his eyes, “You’re the one who almost died.”

Derek managed as much of a shrug as he could, the muscles in his back had felt tight since he’d woken up, “I’m the one who can heal.”

“I’m fine.” Stiles sighed, “And you’re fine too, despite your best effort to bleed out all over Peter’s kitchen table.”

Derek groaned, wincing, “What happened?”

“The Aswang had other defenses we weren’t aware of.” Peter said, draping a towel over his shoulder, “Isaac and I cut out the barbs its tongue left in you that were stopping you from being able to heal. You lost a lot of blood, but you should be fine once you recover fully.”

“You…and Isaac?” Derek blinked up at Peter.

“Yes.” Peter nodded, “Isaac was quite proficient at holding the flaps of your muscles apart with his hands so I could get in and remove the barbs that were causing you to bleed continuously.”

“Christ.” Derek hissed, “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Sorry.” Isaac said.

Derek shook his head, “No. Thank you, Isaac. You helped save my life.”

“Oh.” Isaac whispered softly, “You’re welcome.”

Peter clapped his hands together, “I think it is well beyond bedtime for everyone in this room.”

Stiles looked up at him, arching an eyebrow, “That sound suspiciously like you kicking us out.”

“Quite the opposite!” Peter laughed, reaching down to ruffle Stiles’ hair, “I am inviting everyone over for a slumber party.”

Derek stared at him, “A what?”

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes, “Don’t be difficult, Derek. We both know that an injured pack member heals quicker when they’re surrounded by the strength of their pack, if your entire pack just so happens to be here. One restful night of sleep, and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Peter, it’s almost four in the morning.” The Sheriff said, shaking his head.

“And your point?” Peter asked, “You’re more than welcome to stay too, Noah.”

“I’ll pass.” The Sheriff said after a stretch of silence, “No offence, Derek.”

“None taken.”

Peter turned to Isaac, “You remember where we unpacked the blankets, correct?”

Isaac nodded, “Yeah, I’ll go get them.”

“Excellent.” Peter said, “Laura, if you’ll help me move the couch we can start creating a sleeping area.”

“Oh my god!” Stiles gasped, “We’re about to have a puppy pile!”

“Don’t call it that.” Derek, Laura, and Peter all said in unison.

“Sorry, sorry.” Stiles held his hands up in surrender and stood up from the couch.

Derek followed him, slowly pushing himself up onto his feet so Laura and Peter could rearrange the furniture in the living room. He stumbled slightly, leaning into Stiles to steady himself. He looked down at his body, grimacing when he remembered it was still covered in dried blood. Blood was caked into the beds of his nails, and he could even see a few drops of it on his feet. There was no way Derek was going to be able to sleep comfortably covered in his own dried blood.

“Peter, can I use your shower?” Derek asked.

“Of course,” Peter gestured down the hallway, “use the master bathroom, it’s much larger.”

Derek nodded, “Thanks.”

He took a step towards the hallway, but listed to the side as the world spun around him. It was a new feeling, he’d never been this low on blood before. It didn’t feel like when Kate shot him with the wolfsbane bullet, but it wasn’t pleasant. Derek didn’t like not being able to trust himself or his movements, running and moving was the only thing he’d had for so long, it felt like torture to have it taken away from him.

“You OK?” Stiles asked softly, resting his hand on the small of Derek’s back.

“No.” Derek said honestly, “My head is spinning, but I need to get all this off me.”

The feeling of dried blood was making Derek more and more uncomfortable by the second.

“Come on,” Stiles smiled, “I’ll help you.”

Derek nodded, letting Stiles thread an arm around his waist and guide him down the hallway. It was a new look for them, usually it was Derek shepherding Stiles around after an injury. Stiles moved slowly as he directed them towards Peter’s room. Derek didn’t pay the room much attention once they entered, more focused on the door to the bathroom that was cracked open.

The bathroom was completely white, which was almost too Peter for Derek to stand, but the shower was big. The thought of warm water hitting his body felt like heaven, if he could manage to stay upright for the duration.

“Will you stay?” Derek asked, slightly embarrassed, “Just in case I need something.”

Stiles arched an eyebrow, “You want me to wash your back, Mr. Hale?”

“Don’t call me that, it’s creepy.” Derek wrinkled his nose.

“Yes, Derek.” Stiles smiled, “I’ll stay.”

“Thanks.” Derek said, shedding his jeans and boxer briefs as he walked towards the shower.

Stiles let out an unintelligible string of sound, sputtering, “Holy shit, warn a guy first, would you?”

Derek was confused at first, until he looked down and saw his bare skin. He hurried into the shower and pulled the door closed, throwing up a frosted glass barrier between them.

“Sorry.” Derek said before he turned the water on.

Stiles choked on something, “Dude, please do not apologize ever for showing me your ass. It’s…an ass.”

“An ass?” Derek arched an eyebrow, “Thank you for such a high compliment.”

“It’s not just an ass, it’s _the_ ass.” Stiles clarified, “It’s the ass everyone dreams of. It’s the ass I dream of. Well, when I’m not dreaming about tree roots exploding from my eyes and ripping me apart from the inside out.”

“Stiles?” Derek chuckled, turning his head up towards the scalding hot spray of Peter’s shower.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked.

“Stop talking.”

Stiles didn’t say anything else, so Derek took that as confirmation. He leaned against the wall of the shower, squeezing his eyes shut as the hot water beat down on him. He could feel the heat spreading through his body, it radiated out from his chest and into his back. The tense muscles there started to loosen up as Derek turned in the shower and let the cascade of water beat into it. That must have been where they had to cut into his muscles, it was a feeling Derek had never experienced before.

Derek looked down at the floor of the shower and watched as a pool of red water gathered at his feet. It ran down towards the drain in a tiny river, and Derek grabbed the unscented bar of soap to lather himself with to scrub the rest of the blood away.

He was thankful for all of Peter’s unscented products, he didn’t want to walk away from a shower smelling like Peter. He squeezed a glob of shampoo in his hands and scrubbed it through his hair, massaging his fingers into his scalp.

“You OK in there?” Stiles asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah.” Derek said.

“Cool.” Stiles said, and then, “You know what I was just thinking about?”

Oh god, this couldn’t be good. Derek rinsed the shampoo out of his hair and grabbed the bar of soap again so he could try and get the rest of the blood out from under his nails.

Derek decided to indulge him, “What?”

“I was just thinking about how weird it is that I’ve seen your sister naked more than I’ve seen you naked.”

Derek’s jaw dropped, he squeezed the bar of soap too hard and it flew out of his hands. The soap flew over the wall of the shower, and he heard Stiles yelp and scramble away from it before it landed somewhere else in the bathroom, knocking over something hollow and plastic.

“ _Stiles_.” Derek gasped, “What the hell?”

“What?” Stiles cried, “It’s just a simple fact! I’ve seen Laura naked way more than I’ve ever wanted to!”

“That’s not something you say to me!” Derek stared at the tile in the shower in shock, “She’s my sister!”

“It’s still the truth!” Stiles said, “Facts are facts, America!”

Derek bit back his reply. He could see what Stiles was trying to do. They’d been getting closer to skirting the edge of going further, something that was getting easier and easier to do the more comfortable Derek got in his own skin. He knew Stiles was ready for everything, but Derek still wasn’t quite ready to take that step. He’d never felt pressured by Stiles, but it was simple biology and a fine tuned nose that told Derek the frustration that Stiles wasn’t voicing.

He might not be ready to invite Stiles in the shower with him, but he could still beat him at his own game. Stiles thought he knew Derek well enough to know that he wouldn’t give in to the less subtle suggestion, but he was wrong.

Derek opened the shower door, smiling when he saw that Stiles’ back was to him.

“Hey, Stiles.” Derek said.

Stiles turned, and his jaw immediately dropped. Derek stood there, naked and dripping wet, grinning at him for half a second. He waved, turned around, and closed the shower door again. He could hear the sound of Stiles’ heart kick into overdrive, and then the distinct scent of something else.

“You OK?” Derek asked, amusement and a tinge of smug in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure every werewolf in a five-mile radius knows just how OK I am.” Stiles said breathily, “Holy shit.”

Derek laughed, cutting off the water, “Can you toss me a towel?”

 

X

 

Allison skirted the edge of the tree line as she waited for the last of the police officers to pull away from the church. She’d been sitting in a tree for the last hour and a half, and her legs had been dangerously close to falling off if she didn’t get blood circulating in them. Gerard stood quietly a few yards back, leaned against a tree as he took apart his rifle and put it back together again for the third time.

He’d woken her out of the dead of sleep, it startled her so much that she almost pulled the gun she slept with under her pillow that no one knew about. Gerard’s whispered voice telling her to get dressed was the only thing that saved him from a bullet between the eyes, and the dark part of herself that she grew more fearful of every day mourned the loss of an easy explanation for taking Gerard out for good.

Allison found herself along in a car with Gerard for the second time in twenty-four hours. He didn’t tell her where they were going, but he did let her bring a weapon, so she assumed he wasn’t going to kill her. Or, if he was, he at least wanted her to put up a fight. They’d hiked through the woods for a bit, and that’s how Allison ended up sitting in a tree for close to two hours outside of a church at the edge of town.

“How did you find out about this again?” Allison asked Gerard.

“I told you, I have my sources.” Gerard’s tone said that there was no room for any further questions.

Allison sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned her back and climbed back into her tree to get a better view. She pulled herself way up the branches until she was nearly at the top, then stuck her head out to see over the top of the church. She watched as the last of the taillights from a police cruiser disappeared down the gravel road, then dropped her way back down to Gerard.

“That was the last of them.” Allison said.

Gerard nodded, “Let’s go then.”

Gerard waited for her to go first, it was something Allison had just started to notice, but Gerard never walked with his back to anyone. She pulled the ski mask out of the back pocket of her jeans, pulled it on over her head, and the bun she’d quickly pinned her hair up into, and moved quickly towards the side door of the church.

The entire building was cordoned off with caution tape, and Allison pulled the small knife out of her boot to cut away the seal that was placed on the edge of the door nearest to her. The door made a slight groaning sound as it opened, and it echoed off the walls eerily. They moved down a short hallway until they pushed through another door into the cathedral itself, Allison walked forward a few feet and then stopped, staring slack jawed at the view in front of her.

The cathedral was absolutely destroyed, the stained-glass windows up above her blown out, tile on the floor was cracked, pews were split in half, and a giant cross had fallen in the middle of the walkway.

“What happened here?” Allison asked as Gerard stopped next to her.

“Our new target decided to make a feast out of some church kids.” Gerard said, no hint of emotion in his voice, “and from the looks of it, it wasn’t alone.”

It certainly looked like there’d been a fight. Allison walked around a pew that was snapped in half, examining the lengthy line of cracked tile that looked like someone had taken a jackhammer to it. She’d seen it once before, the night in the library when Lydia saved them from Kate, so she had to have been there.

“Interesting.” Gerard hummed, pointing at the tile, “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“No.” Allison lied, shaking her head.

If Lydia was there, it made sense to think that she wasn’t alone. There was too much damage for her alone, and a lot of it looked like something that would happen in an all-out brawl, not just a banshee infused screaming match.

“We’ve got blood up here.” Gerard called out, standing next to the pulpit.

Allison turned away from the cracked tile and walked up to find Gerard knelt over a small pool of blood. He pulled a blue glass vial out of his pocket, unscrewed the top, pulling out a dropper vial. He squeezed the top and a few drops of whatever liquid was inside the glass dropped onto the spot of blood and immediately began to bubble.

“I knew it,” Gerard hissed, “there were wolves here.”

“Wolfsbane.” Allison whispered to herself as she realized what was inside the dropper bottle.

Her heart began to hammer in her chest. She had no way of knowing if the blood belonged to Laura, Derek, Erica, or Scott. She had no way of knowing if Scott was OK, if he was hurt, or if he was dead somewhere and they were trying to figure out a way to tell her.

“Go check out near the front.” Gerard said, pointing behind Allison towards the front of the church.

Allison nodded, leaving Gerard to whatever he was doing while she tried to figure out a way to get into contact with Scott. She didn’t want to risk blowing her cover by going out and getting her second burner phone, and she really didn’t want to risk running through the woods to Scott’s house again.

She stepped over a pile of colorful broken glass, nudging it aside with her foot to see if there was anything she’d need to hide from Gerard. Just as Allison turned her back to the church’s front door, she heard it open. She turned on instinct, and came face to face with someone dressed in a BHSD uniform. They stared at each other for a moment, until the officer must have registered that Allison was wearing a ski mask, and he immediately drew his weapon.

“Get down on the ground!” The officer yelled, leveling his gun at Allison.

Allison chanced a look over her shoulder, only to find Gerard gone. She heard the same groan of the door they came in opened, and then it slammed shut. The officer was just pulling back the hammer on his pistol when Allison turned back to him, and her training kicked in.

She jerked to the side, one hand wrapping around the long barrel of the revolver that was pointed at her. The officer hadn’t expected her to grab for it, so it was easy to rip it from his hands in a stunned moment of surprise. She was glad she decided to wear gloves, there wouldn’t be any fingerprints on the gun. She tossed the gun to the side, listening as it slid across the floor and under the pews at the front of the church.

The officer reached for his radio next, Allison darted forward and ripped it out of his hands to stop him from calling in backup. She needed to buy herself a few minutes to escape, so she flipped the radio around in her hand and threw it back at the officer’s head. He raised his arm to block it, and it slammed into the side of his arm before falling to the floor and breaking in two.

She kicked her foot through the pile of glass to surprise him, and then turned on her heel and ran for the front of the church. She could hear the pounding footsteps of the officer behind her, but she kept running. She jumped over a pew that was pulled out into the isle, but the toe of her boot hit another small puddle of blood and she slipped, falling to the ground.

The officer took advantage of the moment, she let out a pained gust of air as she felt a heavy body fall on top of her. She struggled against his grip, and bit back a cry of pain when she felt the tip of a bony elbow dig into the base of her spine. She could hear the rattling sound of handcuffs as they were pulled from his belt loop, so she knew she had to do something to get away before they were thrown on. She threw her head back and jammed it into the nose of the officer on top of her. She winced as the impact rattled around her skull, but it gave her enough leverage to get her arms under her chest and push up.

She bucked her body, using her arms to push herself off the ground and throw the officer onto his side. She scrambled to stand, but the officer wrapped a large hand around her ankle. She sighed internally, looking around for something less dangerous than her heel to hit him with. She didn’t want to seriously injure the guy, she just needed to get away from him.

Her eyes fell onto a bible off to the side, she stretched out her arm, just managing to pull it towards her with the tips of her fingers. Once it was in her hand, she turned it around so the spine of the book was facing outwards, and then brought it down in a chopping motion onto the wrist of the officer who was holding onto her. The man let out a cry of pain, and Allison used the moment to get up from the ground.

“Stop!” The officer grunted.

Allison turned to see him getting up from the ground too, he picked up a candle stick that was laying near him and swung it at Allison like a baton. She dodged it, just barely missing a swipe across her face. She ducked, rolling across the ground to dodge another blow, and picked up a broken piece of wood to defend herself. She didn’t know what the officer was made of, but he was putting up a hell of a fight.

She raised the piece of wood to block the candle stick, and then lashed out with a quick kick to the officer’s stomach. He let out a grunt of pain, and Allison jammed the end of the broken piece of wood into his solar plexus. His arm spasmed in pain, and the candle stick fell to the ground.

He didn’t look ready to give up the fight, and Allison was feeling herself growing more annoyed with the situation the longer it went on. She kicked him again, hitting him in the side of his chest, and then darted forward to deliver and upper cut to his jaw. She hit him harder than she’d intended to, and his feet left the ground as his body fell backwards.

She watched in horror, almost like it was moving in slow motion when the officer fell backwards. His back hit the edge of a pew, slowing his fall, but his head made a dull thumping sound as it collided with the back of the pew. His eyes immediately fluttered closed, and his body rolled to the side.

Allison stared wide-eyed at the unconscious body in front of her, she took a hesitant step forward and leaned down towards the officer. She could see that he was still breathing, it looked heavy and strong, not like someone who was about to take their last breath.

She didn’t know what else to do, so she ran.

She burst through the door to the small hallway, and then out of the side door they came in from. She sprinted across the grass and into the woods, heading back to where they’d parked their car.

She ran for half a mile, dodging through the forest to make sure she covered her tracks. She was close to the road now, and she could see bright headlights coming from the opposite direction of the church. She didn’t see any flashing lights, and when the car slammed on its brakes a few hundred feet away from where she was hiding, Allison walked out into the road.

“Get in!” Gerard’s voice came from the vehicle.

Allison threw open the door to the SUV, pulling herself up inside. She didn’t even have the door closed before Gerard was turning the car around and gunning it down the road. Her hands were shaking, she didn’t know if it was with fear or adrenaline, she pulled the mask from her head and spun in her seat.

“You left me!” Allison yelled at Gerard.

Gerard didn’t even look at her, “What did you expect me to do, stay and get myself caught as well?”

“You could have helped me!” Allison yelled, the anger inside herself overpowering the voice that was telling her to stay calm.

“I trusted you could handle yourself, and I see that I was right.” Gerard said, his eyes never once leaving the road, “Kate wouldn’t have needed my help either.”

Allison took a deep breath, clenching her fists before she turned back to face the road and buckle her seatbelt. She wanted to keep yelling, to scream at Gerard for putting her in a situation where she almost killed a cop who was only doing his god damn job.

“Well, I’m not Kate.” Allison said after a few minutes.

Gerard’s only answer was a non-committal hum, and Allison was left to sit in silence and wonder how many police officers Kate killed to protect herself.

 

X

 

Isaac sat on the edge of his bed as he tried to decompress from everything that had happened that night.

He’d gone from sleeping somewhat peacefully to being ripped out of sleep by the sounds of pounding fists on the front door. It had taken him a moment to remember where he was, that he was sure he was safe here, and that whatever was happening wasn’t because of him.

That it wasn’t someone coming to hurt him.

Still, even though Isaac had managed to convince himself he was going to be OK, he never would have expected what was on the other side of the door. It almost moved too quickly for him to process, one second Derek was bleeding on their doorstep, and the next Isaac was wrist deep in his body, holding back thick chunks of muscle while Peter operated on him.

Holy shit.

Isaac wasn’t sure if it was going to give him nightmares or not, but at least he’d helped someone.

A knock on his door drew Isaac’s attention, and he slowly opened it to find Scott and Erica standing outside.

“Hi?” Isaac asked.

“Yo,” Erica grinned, “mind if we come in?”

Isaac looked around his room, it was a little bare, but at least it wasn’t embarrassingly messy, “Sure.”

Isaac took a few steps back as Erica and Scott filtered inside. He didn’t exactly know what to do with them around, he’d never had friends in his room before. He still didn’t quite know if Erica and Scott were actually his friends, to be honest.

“So, I heard you were a pretty big bad ass tonight.” Scott said, grinning.

“Me?” Isaac startled, “I…don’t think so?”

“Dude, Stiles can’t stop talking about how you literally stuck your hands inside Derek to save him.” Erica wrinkled her nose, “Wait, that sounded wrong.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “It only sounded wrong to you because you’re a perv, Erica.”

“Whatever.” Erica elbowed Scott in the side, “Don’t tell me a little part of you isn’t dying to see how freaky Stiles and Derek get behind closed doors.”

Scott sputtered, his arms flailing, “Dude! Stiles is basically my brother, the only thing I’m going to die from is that image you put in my head!”

Isaac turned away from both of them, hoping neither saw the creeping redness of a blush he felt on his cheeks.

“I’m glad I could help.” Isaac said, trying to change the subject.

“I’m glad you could too.” Erica said, and Isaac saw her smiling as he turned back to face her, “It would have been pretty shitty if Derek died.”

“Pretty shitty is an understatement.” Scott frowned, he shook his head, “Anyway, you coming out for the slumber party?”

“Oh.” Isaac said, surprised.

He hadn’t given it much thought, he figured it was more of a werewolf only type thing. He was ready to curl up in his bed.

“Grab your pillow and let’s go!” Erica said, “I’m exhausted, and Stiles has already proclaimed that no one is sleeping until the…puppy pile is complete.”

“I wish he would stop calling it that.” Scott shuddered.

“You…want me to come?” Isaac asked, just to make sure.

Erica looked at him like he’d grown a second head, “Uh, duh?”

“Where is everyone?” Stiles’ voice yelled from the living room.

Erica sighed, “He’s insufferable.”

“Leave him alone, he’s just happy that Derek isn’t dead right now.” Scott said, he turned to Isaac, “See you out there in a minute?”

Isaac looked from them, then back to his bed, and nodded, “Sure.”

“Cool beans.” Erica said, then stepped back out into the hall, “Stiles, would you shut the fuck up?”

Scott sighed, “I need to go make sure Stiles doesn’t magically throw another pillow at her face, Peter is already pissed Erica shredded the good one.”

It startled a laugh out of Isaac, “Tell me it wasn’t the frilly green one?”

Scott winced, “It was.”

“Erica’s doomed.” Isaac laughed again.

He reached down to his bed and grabbed his pillow, then balled his blanket up and brought it with him just in case. Everyone was already in the living room, the furniture had all been moved to the side, and there were mounds of blankets and pillows in the center of the room. Stiles was already laying down, plastered against Derek’s side. Laura was on the other side of Derek, her arm draped over his shoulder. Lydia was a bit further to the side, but Erica dragged her back into the middle of the room and forced a pillow into her hands before they both claimed spots on the floor. Scott dropped down next to Stiles, and then patted the spot next to himself on the ground.

“You coming?” Scott asked.

Isaac saw Peter disappear out the front door of the apartment, and the Sheriff wasn’t anywhere around, so he hesitantly walked over and dropped his pillow down next to Scott. He wrapped his blanket around himself like a cloak, and then laid down on the ground.

“Dammit, who forgot to turn off the light?” Erica groaned.

“I’ve got it!” Stiles said.

Isaac watched as Stiles stuck his hand into the air, wiggled his fingers, and then the lights in the living room went out. He didn’t think he’d ever not be mesmerized when he saw Stiles use his magic.

Because, holy shit, it was magic.

“This is going to be the best puppy pile ever.” Stiles whispered into the darkness.

“Stop calling it that!” Everyone said in unison.

Isaac laughed softly to himself as he felt the tension in his shoulders ease out, he closed his eyes and hoped that he’d drift off to sleep quietly when he was surrounded by people who actually thought of him as a friend.  

 

X

 

Peter found Noah leaning against his Beacon Hills issued SUV. It was different than the one he’d seen him in last.

“New car?” Peter asked. Noah startled, reflexively reaching for his gun before settling down and glaring at Peter.

“Department got an upgrade on a few of the older cars.” Noah said.

“Hmm.” Peter hummed, inspecting the vehicle, “Nice interior, the back seat is very roomy.”

“Knock it off, Peter.” Noah sighed, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you ever in the mood?” Peter wondered.

“No.” Noah said flatly, pulling a single cigarette out of his pocket.

Interesting.

Peter watched as Noah twirled the stick around in his fingers, his eyes flickering down to it every so often.

“Careful.” Peter said, “Those things will kill you.”

Noah laughed, bitter, he pointed out to the dark expanse of trees across the road, “Look around, Peter.”

“Fair.” Peter shrugged, “Since when do you smoke?”

Peter hadn’t known Noah to ever do it in high school. The Varsity quarterback couldn’t risk something as precious as his lungs, lest he not be able to make a touchdown.

“I don’t.” Noah wavered, “Or, I haven’t. I started about ten years ago, there was a case I saw that I couldn’t deal with, and it was either cigarettes or the bottom of a bottle. The cigarettes seemed less destructive at the time, but Claudia damn near threw me out after she caught me. I haven’t smoked since.”

“Not even after she died?” Peter asked. Before Noah could reply, Peter continued, “It’s an honest question, Noah. If anyone understands reckless behavior in the face of loss, it’s me.”

Noah was quiet for a moment, for so long Peter almost didn’t think he would respond, but then, “I bought a pack after her funeral. It’s actually what this one is from. I couldn’t smoke them though, it felt like it would be spitting in the face of her memory. I’ve kept the box in my closet for the last few years, and I take one out with me if I know I’m going to see something I don’t want to.”

“Just in case?” Peter asked.

Silently, Noah nodded.

Peter stared up at the sky, tracing the constellations with his eyes. They were bright, even though they were probably dead. He looked over at Noah, finding him doing the exact same thing.

“Do you remember the last time we looked at the stars together?” Peter asked quietly.

The cigarette crumbled in Noah’s hand, he threw it onto the ground and stomped on it with his heel before whirling on Peter, “I can’t keep doing this, Peter! I’m tired of your little jabs, your sly little jokes you think no one notices! They’re god damn werewolves, they notice everything! And my son…my son is fucking brilliant, he’s going to pick up on your bullshit sooner or later. I wish you’d just say something, scream at me, threaten to kill me, anything! I know you’re angry and I know you’ve been holding it in for decades, so just let it out! I’m so god damn tired of not being able to relax around you because I don’t know what the hell is going to come out of your mouth next.”

Noah was positively radiating with anger. Peter could see it in the way his hands shook, in the way his eyes were burning into Peter as if he wished he actually could kill him with a single look. His anger filled the air, the scent hitting Peter in the face harder than any blow could have. He took a single step backwards, putting distance between himself and Noah.

He’d pushed one button too many, that much he knew. Still, he hadn’t expected Noah to be holding so much rage inside him. It hurt, a bit, but it wasn’t something that Peter could control.

“I have plenty to be angry about, but I got over my anger in concern to you quite a few years ago, Noah.” Peter said, “You’re the only person who knew me before the fire, aside from Derek and Laura, but perhaps I made that seem like more than it was in my head. You’ll have to forgive me, it’s a confusing place to be sometimes.”

Peter’s head was a constant maelstrom when it wasn’t occupied by a single task. He’d worked himself to the bone to stop himself from thinking things before, and he could always do it again. He turned his back to Noah, heading towards the front door of the apartment building.

“Christ.” Noah sighed, “Peter, I’m sorry. It’s been a difficult night-”

Peter cut him off, “It’s fine. I understand.”

“Peter, stop.” Noah said.

Peter looked over his shoulder, his eyes glancing down at the ruined cigarette at Noah’s feet, “It’s fine, Noah. I’ll keep your secret for you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! i look forward to the comments!


	14. Tell Me

 

Chapter Fourteen

Tell me

 

Stiles sat on the floor of Peter’s office, bracketed by Derek’s thighs, as they went through book after book about supernatural creatures. Lydia was on the small loveseat, a large whiteboard laid across the coffee table in front of her, keeping track of all the information they were collecting. She had it separated into organized sections, each type of fact written in a different color so they could keep track of all the conflicting information.

Erica was busy swiveling herself back and forth in Peter’s desk chair, she’d all but given up about an hour ago. There were a lot of books to go through, and not all of them were kind enough to have an index or to at least alphabetize their entries.

Lydia sighed, “I wish I could send a strongly worded letter to the publisher of this book, why is the entry for Aswang _after_ the entry for a Wolpertinger?”

Erica arched an eyebrow, “A who-the-what-er?”

“Wolpertinger.” Derek said, “It’s a rabbit with wings, fangs, and horns.”

Stiles leaned back, tipping his head backwards so he was looking at Derek upside down, “ _Please_ tell me those are real.”

“I don’t know.” Derek frowned, “Laura swears she saw one when she was in high school, but I think she was just drunk and saw a regular rabbit.”

“It’s the size of a rabbit?” Erica leaned forward, resting her arms on Peter’s desk, “Can we trade monsters? I’d rather fight a Wrappersinger than an Asswang.”

“Wolpertinger.” Lydia corrected, “It says here that it’s immortal, immune to magic, poisons, and separation.”

“Separation?” Stiles asked.

“Meaning it can’t be cut into tiny little pieces.” Lydia skimmed the page with her finger, “Oh, it also has a poisonous bite that can kill in as quickly as twenty seconds.”

Erica pursed her lips, “Never mind. Waddledooper can stay where he’s at.”

Stiles stood, using the muscles of Derek’s thighs as a handhold as he pushed himself up, and walked over to the board Lydia had written on. He stared down at it, his eyes roving over the multi-colored words and question marks next to perceived weaknesses. It felt like they knew a whole lot of nothing, and Stiles didn’t like that.

They’d been thrown for a loop after what happened to Derek, nothing they’d come across before that had mentioned anything about a barbed tongue, so it was something they couldn’t prepare for. Deaton hadn’t even known about it, which was the most disconcerting thing.

“At least we know they can be killed?” Stiles blew out a breath of frustrated air, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

“We’ve come across it twice now, and it demonstrated great durability.” Lydia said, “It might not be as simple as holding it down and ripping its head off, especially if we don’t know everything that it can do.”

“I’m trying to look at the positive side of things here, Lyds.” Stiles groaned.

“Why don’t we wrap it up for now?” Derek said, punctuating his sentence by the heavy snap of a large book closing.

Derek stood, walked over to the whiteboard, and picked it up.

“Hey!” Stiles and Lydia said in unison.

“Neither of you are going to get anywhere staring at this thing for another three hours.” Derek said, “I’m taking it with me, you can have it back later.”

Stiles blinked at him, “You’re taking our research?”

“Yes.” Derek nodded once.

“And where are you taking it?” Lydia asked.

“It’s going in my car, and then somewhere that you two can’t obsess over it.” Derek said.

“We’re not obsessing, Derek.”

“You two spent fifteen minutes debating the pros and cons of using blue for a confirmed fact.” Derek deadpanned.

“Freedom!” Erica cried, vaulting from the chair, “God bless you, Derek.”

Erica was out of the room before Stiles could say anything.

“OK, maybe we’re obsessing a little bit,” Stiles held his thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart, the universal sign for teeny-tiny, “but we’ve got to figure this out! The Aswang killed a group of people in a church! A church, Derek!”

“I’m aware, I was there.” Derek said, pulling the board even further away, “You two are going to wear yourselves out trying to figure this all out in one day, just take a break. Please.”

“You’re aware we don’t need the board to research, correct?” Lydia pursed her lips.

Derek sighed, long suffering, “Peter!”

A few moments later, Peter appeared in the doorway behind Derek, “You rang?”

Derek swept his free hand across the room, “They’re spiraling.”

“I see.” Peter said, “Everyone out of my apartment.”

“What?” Stiles gaped at him.

“Go. Scram. Vacate the premises.” Peter said, “You’re hereby cut off from my library until further notice.”

“Judas’,” Stiles muttered, picking up his bag and stuffing a book into it.

“Drop it.” Peter pointed at the bag, “No removing books from my home either.”

“Fine.” Lydia huffed, smoothing the wrinkles in her shirt as she stood, “I _will_ remember this.”

“I’m sure you will.” Derek rolled his eyes, “Neither of you have eaten since last night, take a break, go get some food, something. Please. I’m begging you.”

“Begging, huh?” Stiles waggled his eyebrows, leaning forward with a grin.

Derek cuffed him on the head, pushing him away lightly, “I’m leaving, and taking this with me, I’ll call you later.”

Stiles frowned at his failed seduction tactic. He crossed his arms and huffed, kicking at the ground like the actual child that he was.

“Fine.” Stiles glared at Derek, “Talk to you later, Brutus.”

Derek didn’t say anything as he left, just grinned and gave Stiles a two-finger salute. He knew Derek was right, he and Lydia weren’t accomplishing anything by throwing themselves at a brick wall, but at least it felt productive. He’d woken up with a flurry of energy, and burning anxiety over the fact that there were things about the Aswang that they didn’t know. Nothing they’d read said anything about its creepy tongue, so what else could they have been missing. Stiles would prefer to learn now, rather than later when Derek is laying on yet another kitchen table dying.

Peter herded them out of the apartment right after Derek, moving them towards the door, “Shoo! Both of you out of my apartment. Isaac left with Erica, and I am very much looking forward to having the afternoon to myself without anyone under the age of eighteen around.”

Stiles wrinkled his nose, “I don’t even want to know.”

“Probably not.” Peter shrugged, “If you return before the sun sets, it is under penalty of mortal peril.”

“No one thinks you’re cute when you say things like that.” Lydia said, rolling her eyes.

“My, you are a grumpy one.” Peter teased, leaning against the doorframe.

Stiles sighed, hooking his arm through Lydia’s elbow, “C’mon, let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving.”

He hadn’t realized it until Derek said something, but now all Stiles could think about was the tight pain in his stomach that signified lack of food. Lydia sighed, graciously letting herself be pulled towards the elevator. Stiles jammed his thumb into the call button, and the doors opened instantly. Lydia settled herself against the opposite wall from Stiles, while Stiles pressed the button for the ground floor.

Stiles’ phone buzzed in his pocket once they stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. He pulled it out and stared at it, his mouth parting slightly.

 

**FROM: Unknown Number: Strawberry Shortcake**

“Well,” Stiles said, “I think I found something for us to do now.”

“What?” Lydia asked, dangling the keys to her new car in her hand.

Stiles flipped his phone around and showed her, just as another text came through.

“Is that Allison?” Lydia asked, her voice low.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, “that’s the code for when she wants us to meet her somewhere.”

He looked down at the new text, a string of numbers.

“Latitude and Longitude?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, “Up for a fieldtrip?”

“It beats watching you stuff your face with food for the next hour.” Lydia said as she unlocked her car.

Right.

Food.

“About that,” Stiles smiled sweetly, “you mind hitting a drive through first?”

 

X

 

Isaac followed behind Erica as they walked through the forest. He was focused intently on not tripping over a tree root, slipping on a rock, or getting tangled in the piece of rope that was clutched in his hand. Erica was effortlessly dangling a punching bag over her shoulder, moving swiftly ahead of him.

“This should be good.” Erica said once they’d reached a clearing that was deemed acceptable.

Erica hefted the punching bag from her shoulder, dropping it to the ground. She kicked it in the center, and the bag went flying backwards until it was resting against the thick trunk of a tree. Isaac couldn’t get over the intensity of her strength, of the strength of all the wolves. It was something he never thought possible, and it left him awestruck every time.

“Rope me, Lahey!” Erica said, sticking her arm out towards him.

“That sounds wrong.” Isaac mumbled, but he still tossed her the length of rope.

Erica rolled her eyes, “Please, we both know I’m not here to 50 Shades of Grey you.”

“And for that I think we’re both thankful.” Isaac laughed, awkwardly feeling himself start to blush.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re a whole man, but I have my sights set on someone else.” Erica grinned, her eyes flashing gold.

Isaac turned away, feeling the slight flush turn into a full body blush, “Thank you?”

“Don’t mention it.” Erica’s voice was strained, Isaac turned to see her tossing the punching bag up into the air.

The bag flew sideways through the air, the rope trailing behind it, over a low tree branch. It landed with a thud on the other side, with just enough rope hanging down so that Erica could pull it back up. Erica jumped for the rope, using her bodyweight to pull the bag up into the air, she tied it down to a piece of tree root that was sticking out of the ground, and then they had a fully functioning punching bag.

“You do realize you could have just thrown the rope over the top of the branch instead of the entire bag, right?” Isaac asked, smirking.

Erica stared at him for a second, “I did not, but now that I do, I can see how it might be easier.”

Isaac laughed softly, and then dropped his backpack from his shoulder to the ground. He pulled out a bottle of water and sat it next to the tree, and then a pair of fingerless gloves that Erica had made him bring. He pulled the gloves on, velcroing the straps tightly to make sure they were secure, and turned to face Erica.

“OK, so what next?” Isaac asked.

Erica leaned against the bag with one arm, “Show me what you’re working with, Lahey.”

Isaac nodded, stepping up to the bag. He flexed his fingers once, twice, and then curled them into a tight fist. He stared at the center of the bag, closed his eyes, and then drew his hand back. He didn’t think about anything, he just threw his fist forward and punched the bag. The impact made a soft sound, something like slapping a countertop with a wet washcloth.

“Oh boy,” Erica said, “we’re gonna have our work cut out for us.”

“Sorry.” Isaac mumbled, “I’m not used to hitting people…”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Erica’s face softened, “Neither was I until I started working with Derek and Laura, and look at me now!”

Erica swept her arms out in a grand fashion, splaying them both to the side as if she was presenting herself.

“Thank you for helping me with this.” Isaac said, “I was scared to ask anyone else.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Erica smiled, “I’m totally fine being seen as the least threatening of the group.”

It was why Isaac had asked her for her help. He knew anyone else would have helped him, but he felt too embarrassed to ask Peter, too dumb to ask Laura, and too scared to ask Derek. He would have been comfortable with Scott, but Scott was too busy working. That left Erica as the only person he felt safe with teaching him to fight, though the way she was bouncing back and forth on her feet was making him rethink his impression of her.

“You’ve gotta really throw your back into it with a punch, imagine if it’s the only thing you’re going to be able to do to get away from someone, OK?” Erica stepped up to the other side of the bag and drew her hand back.

“OK.” Isaac nodded.

“So, you’ve got one move to cause someone who’s attacking you enough pain that it will distract them enough to let you get away. You aim for the weak points of the body: the eyes, the nose, and the stomach.”

Erica punched the bag in rapid succession, hitting roughly the three places where those weak points would be if they were on a human. The bag swung under the weight of her punches, bouncing back against the bark of the tree. Isaac waited for it to settle, and then he tried what Erica just did.

One.

Two.

Three.

He hit the bag a little harder, but not enough to make it swing like Erica did.

“That’s better.” Erica said, “You still need a little more weight behind the punch.”

“I do?” Isaac frowned, “I thought I was hitting it pretty hard.”

“You were,” Erica shrugged, “but it can always be harder. You can try what I do when I really want to let loose on something, I just think about things that make me upset.”

“Upset?” Isaac asked.

“I think about all the times I was made fun of, or how people tormented me for half my life, and I just let it all out when I’m fighting.” Erica stretched her arm against her chest, “I don’t, like, imagine _hurting_ the people who made fun of me, I just take all that pain and frustration and channel it into something other than sadness.”

“I can try that.” Isaac said hesitantly.

Isaac certainly had a lot of pain and anger inside himself, but it seemed counterproductive to try and release those feelings with violence. Those feelings were caused by violence, and it seemed like a slippery slope to try and cope with them that way.

Still, he’d asked Erica for help because he didn’t want to be a frail, scared kid anymore.

Isaac closed his eyes, and he instantly saw his father’s face. He was angry, his face was red in the way it only got when he was really drunk, and it was something Isaac still had nightmares about. He felt the fear start to wrap its hands around his neck, like it was trying to choke him, but he channeled that fear differently at the last second. He took all the fear, and threw it behind his fist. It hit the bag with a loud thunk, shaking it, and the branch above.

“Badass, Lahey!” Erica cheered.

Isaac looked down at his hand in shock. He felt…lighter in a way. He wasn’t thinking about hurting someone, not even his father, he just took one form of emotion and channeled it into something else. It wasn’t as scary as he thought, and he didn’t feel like he wanted to go around and start beating the shit out of people to make himself feel better.

He took a deep breath and tried again, mimicking the three strikes Erica had done.

One.

Two.

Three.

The bag swung back with more force each time, and Isaac could feel a tingling sensation in his hand from the repeated impact. He shifted his weight to the other foot, and hit the bag with alternating fists. He felt his energy growing each time he made impact, felt the weight lifting off his shoulders.

It was like his fear took physical form in the bag, and each strike chipped away at it.

He was out of breath by the time he was done, and he felt a thin layer of sweat clinging to his brow. Erica was grinning at him, looking like a proud parent.

“You’re having fun.” Erica said.

Isaac stopped, ran a hand through his damp curls, and smiled, “Yeah, I think I am.”

He’d never had a way to let out anything that was inside of him. His life had existed on a loop for so long.

Wake up. Fear. Hurt. Go to school. Alone. Come home. Fear. Hurt. Sleep. Fear. Repeat.

There was never any way for him to process what was happening to him other than lay in bed and think about it. Until now.

“I want to like…run, or some shit.” Isaac laughed, “Holy shit, I have like, so much energy. This is amazing! Do people feel like this all the time? Is this what drugs feel like? Do I want to do drugs?”

Erica tipped her head back and cackled, “Slow down there, pretty boy. Those would be called endorphins, they come out to play sometimes when you’re working your body out.”

“Endorphins are fucking awesome!” Isaac almost yelled.

He twisted back to the bag, punching it twice, and then jumped into the air to kick it. He misjudged the distance though, and his leg sailed past the bag and towards the tree. His eyes went wide, he braced for impact, but he felt someone catch him before he hit the tree.

Erica gently put him back down on the ground, “Let’s give it a little time before you start to go all Bruce Lee.”

“Sorry.” Isaac rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed, “I got a little carried away.”

“I get it.” Erica said, “I accidentally ran to the next county over the first time Laura let me run free after the bite, I know how freeing the feeling of strength is.”

Was that what he felt? Isaac wasn’t sure he’d ever felt strong in his entire life.

“Do you want to run?” Erica asked.

“Can we?” Isaac asked.

“Sure.” Erica grinned, “I even promise I won’t use my wolfy speed to leave you behind.”

“Wolfy speed?” Isaac asked.

“Stiles started it, and then it caught on.” Erica sighed shaking her head.

“I figured.”

Erica gave Isaac a few seconds to stretch his legs out, and then she was off. She ran in the direction that they came from, towards the nicely carved out running trail in the woods. Isaac followed along after her, relieved that he could still keep up with her even if she wasn’t pushing herself to her more supernatural limits.

The trail was mercifully free of anything for him to trip over, so he let his body guide him. It felt nice to have the wind rushing past him, blowing through his hair as he ran. It was a kind of freedom Isaac had never felt before, and a kind of freedom Isaac never thought he’d actually get to feel.

As they were running, Isaac saw someone coming in the opposite direction. He was tall, dressed in workout gear, and the closer they got to him, Erica started to slow down. She slowed to a walk, then stopped in the middle of the trail.

“Boyd?” Erica asked.

The guy, Boyd, pulled his headphones out of his ears, panting, “Erica?”

“Hey,” Erica smiled, “what’re you doing out here?”

Boyd swept his hands over his body, “Running.”

“Oh.” Erica’s eyes raked him up and down, “Right. Obviously.”

Isaac snorted in amusement, drawing Boyd’s attention.

He held out a hand, introducing himself, “Boyd.”

“Hi.” Isaac hesitantly returned the handshake, “Isaac.”

“I didn’t know you ran.” Boyd said, turning back to Erica.

Erica grinned, pointing over her shoulder at Isaac, “Just trying to show Lahey here the joy of physical activity.”

“You his personal trainer or something?” Boyd asked, smirking.

“Or something.” Isaac said.

“You come out here often?” Boyd asked.

“Sorta…” Erica trailed off, “I’m a big fan of running through the woods, being closer to nature and all that stuff.”

“You’re a regular wild animal, huh?” Boyd chuckled.

Erica turned bright red, Isaac nearly choked on his spit.

“I’ve gotta get going, I promised my family I’d be back in time for dinner.” Boyd said, bouncing on his feet, “We should get together and go for a run sometime though, since you like it so much.”

Erica sputtered, “I, uh, um…”

“She’d love to.” Isaac offered.

Boyd looked amused, “OK, then I’ll text her later.”

“OK.” Erica responded, “Bye.”

Erica grabbed Isaac by the elbow and hauled him further down the trail, away from Boyd.

“What the hell, Lahey?” Erica growled.

“What?” Isaac laughed, “I was just helping you stick the landing.”

“I was doing just fine on my own!” Erica glared at him.

“Right…” Isaac smirked, “I, uh, um, oh, well, yeah, ahh. You really had that one in the bag.”

Erica’s glare only turned more intense, “I’d rip your heart out and feed it to you if you weren’t so adorable.”

“If I’m gone then who would be around to make sure you went on a date with Boyd?” Isaac grinned, quoting Erica’s earlier words to her, “He’s a _whole man_ , after all.”

Erica stared at him for a moment, her glare dropping off completely, “Once we wrap up this whole Aswang thing I’m going to look into body snatchers, because I don’t think you’re the same Isaac I came into the forest with.”

Isaac certainly felt different.  

Isaac shrugged, “Must be the endorphins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was a lot shorter than normal, but i had to be done with it cuz it was kicking my ass lmao 
> 
> small note: there won't be a new chapter next week, i'm taking a short break to work on finishing up a few chapters in the future, so we'll resume the first week in december!
> 
> hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	15. Investigation Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's pretend that my planned one week break didn't turn into a three month long break and let's celebrate on officially passing the 100k mark instead lol

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

Investigation Discovery 

 

Stiles and Lydia stood outside of a large warehouse.

Lydia had plugged the latitude and longitude coordinates from Allison’s text into the GPS, and Stiles had followed the winding trail to a warehouse on the furthest outskirts of the Beacon County line. A few more feet to the left, and they’d be out of Beacon County all together.

There were no other cars around the warehouse; it was just a long, rusted building in the center of a large square of paved cement. Rust had eaten through the metal siding of the building, casting creepy shadows across the inside of the building as they looked through the holes. There wasn’t anyone around, Stiles reached out with his magic and tried to sense anyone, but he came up empty. They were either alone, or Stiles was doing the whole human sonar thing wrong.

“Should we go inside?” Stiles asked.

“Sure, why not? It looks completely safe.” Lydia deadpanned.

“One more loop around the outside?” Stiles looked at Lydia out of the corner of his eye.

“Yes.” Lydia said, already walking along the side of the building again.

They made the same circle they’d already made twice before, not noticing anything different. It wasn’t until Lydia came to a stop in front of the large rolling doors of the warehouse that she noticed something. She dropped down to one knee, using the side of her hand to brush away leaves and dirt from the ground, and pointed to a deep groove.

“Tire tracks.” Lydia said, standing and following the tracks back towards the woods.

They walked away from the warehouse for a few more feet, stopping just before the dirt path turned into the gravel road that they’d driven in on. Lydia bent down and looked at the tire tracks again.

“They’re old, probably two weeks or so.” Lydia said.

“And you know that how?” Stiles arched an eyebrow.

“They’re not deep enough to be fresh.” Lydia said, “They’re mostly undisturbed, but the grooves left behind by the tires have been naturally filled with dirt and debris, it doesn’t look like they were intentionally trying to cover them up.”

“And you know that how?” Stiles asked again.

Lydia looked up at him, rolling her eyes before standing, “I read a book on tracking a few weeks ago while I was getting my hair done. I figured it might be a useful skill to have.”

“You would.” Stiles shook his head, but his smile was fond, “Speaking of hair…”

Stiles trailed off, pointing at the vague direction of the strip of white in Lydia’s hair. It was sort of the elephant in the room once everyone woke up, it seemed like no one wanted to be the first to point it out, and Stiles had noticed Lydia subconsciously trying to comb it in with the rest of her hair to minimize the appearance.

Lydia sighed, “It started before school ended, a few weeks after Kate died.”

Stiles stared at her, “It’s been that long, and you haven’t told anyone?”

“What’s there to tell?” Lydia asked, “Clearly it’s some banshee side-effect. I’ve been dyeing it back to my normal color, but it always comes back.”

“We could have been researching.” Stiles pointed out, “There’s tons of stuff about banshees between Deaton and Peter’s libraries.”

“I’ve already read them all, Stiles.” The tone of Lydia’s voice told Stiles she was getting more than a little annoyed, “There’s nothing. Short of finding an actual banshee to speak to, I’m flying blind. It’s not a big deal.”

Stiles held his hands up in surrender, “Fine, but at least come here and let me try something.”

“Stiles.” Lydia said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Lydia.” Stiles echoed, mirroring Lydia’s pose exactly.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and Stiles tried his best not to blink. He forced his eyes open, and just as he was about to break, Lydia blew out a frustrated breath and uncrossed her arms.

“Fine.” Lydia stopped in front of him, just within arm’s reach.

“Don’t move.” Stiles told her as he reached out with his right hand.

Lydia rolled her eyes, but didn’t move as Stiles’ fingers combed through the white strip in her hair. He had no idea if what he wanted to try would work, but he’d been dying to test it out for a few weeks now. He lightly gripped the white strip of hair between his thumb and index finger at the root, the tips of his fingers just barely pressing into Lydia’s scalp. His middle finger hooked a strand of Lydia’s natural hair and pressed it into the strip of white. Stiles took a deep breath, focused his magic, and softly pulled his fingers down the strip of white hair.

Stiles watched in amazement as the color of Lydia’s hair changed as he moved his fingers through it. The white hair faded back into Lydia’s natural red in the wake of his fingers, he released his grip on her hair once he reached the end of the white strip, patting Lydia on the shoulder.

“Holy shit.” Stiles laughed, “I’m so awesome.”

Lydia’s eyes went wide, “Oh god, what did you do?”

Lydia opened the bag that was hanging from her shoulder, riffling through it until she pulled out a compact. She flipped it open, raised the mirror to her face, and started to card her fingers through her hair as she looked for the white stripe.

When she didn’t find any white, she looked at Stiles over the top of the mirror, “How did you do that?”

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Stiles shrugged, “Der and I watched The Craft a few weeks ago, and I’ve been dying to try and magically dye someone’s hair since then. I wanted to try and make Derek blonde, but he got all growly with me.”

 Lydia stared at him, her eyes wide, “You’ve never done that before?”

“No?” Stiles said hesitantly.

Lydia snapped her compact shut, “If my hair falls out, my retribution will know no bounds.”

“Aw, come on!” Stiles frowned, “That’s the difference between you and I, Lyds. You think of the worst possible outcome, and I think of the best.”

“You filled an entire composition notebook with color coded plans for various apocalyptic scenarios in the fifth grade.” Lydia stared at him.

Stiles walked past her without acknowledging that fact, “Let’s go look at the creepy warehouse.”

Stiles didn’t look back to see if Lydia was following him, he just headed straight for the rolling door of the warehouse. Lydia joined him a few seconds later, she bent down to inspect the wheels on the door of the warehouse. Stiles looked up and eyed the track the door was set on, it looked like both sides of the large metal doors rolled open, it reminded Stiles of an airplane hangar. He walked over to one of the long vertical bars on the right door and pulled as hard as he could, but it didn’t budge. Lydia joined him, they both jerked at the door, trying to get it to move, but it was no use.

“Where’s the WD-40 when you need it?” Stiles palms were red from the strain of trying to pull the door, “I can try to magic it open?”

“There was that door in the back, it’ll probably be easier to get in that way.” Lydia said, walking around the side of the building.

Stiles chased after her, “That’s probably a better idea than what I was thinking of trying.”

“I figured.” Lydia hummed.

The door in the back of the building was small, enough so that Stiles would probably have to duck to get through it. It looked sturdy though, made of solid metal that looked newer than the rest of the building. It was easy enough to overlook the first time they looped around the building, but now that they were close to the door it was obvious.

“No rust at all.” Stiles said, poking the door.

Lydia pointed at the bottom of the door, it was jagged and uneven, “This door frame is incredibly small, whoever installed this had to cut the door to get it to fit.”

The padlock on the door was also new, there was a thin layer of dust and dirt over it, but it was gleaming silver underneath. Stiles wrapped his hand around the padlock, took a deep breath, and let his magic do the rest of the work. A few seconds later, the padlock made a soft clicking sound, and Stiles pulled it down to undo it.

He pocketed the padlock, then pushed the door open. It groaned, the sound of the jagged cut metal scraping against the stone floor below it. Stiles stepped inside first, with Lydia following close behind him. The interior of the warehouse was musty, stale air with dust particles floating through it. Light shone in through cracked windows overhead, and a long skylight stretched out from one side of the warehouse to the next. It was a single, large room, with a set of stairs that led up to a metal walkway that wrapped around the entire area.

Stiles stared at the rusted guardrails around the walkways, “Hope you’ve had your tetanus shot. Wait, can a banshee even get tetanus?”

Lydia looked at him, sighed, and walked away, “Let’s not find out.”

The interior of the warehouse was completely bare. There were obvious tire tracks in the dust on the floor that led to the large rolling doors at the front of the warehouse, but there didn’t seem to be anything interesting or incriminating inside. The only point of interest that Stiles noted was a small room off to the corner, it jutted out of the wall, and there was a foggy glass window along one side.

“An office?” Stiles asked, pointing to the room.

“Probably.” Lydia said, “Go see if you can get into it, I’m going to see if there’s anything I can find out here.”

Stiles looked at Lydia, then back at the completely empty space in front of her, “OK. Have fun with your…empty room?”

“An empty room is where you find the best clues, Stiles.” Lydia shook her head, “Honestly, do you not watch Investigation Discovery?”

Stiles turned and walked swiftly away from Lydia before he could answer. He crossed the warehouse quickly until he was at the door that led to the office. It was locked, because of course it would be, so Stiles held his hand over the lock and waited. A second later, the lock sprung open.

Stiles hadn’t expected the upside to magical powers was never having to worry about forgetting his keys at home again.

The inside of the office was a lot more interesting than the warehouse. There was a small desk in the corner, along with a faded map of Beacon Hills pinned to the wall. The desk had a stack of folders on it, but Stiles ignored them in favor of the map on the wall. The map caught his attention the second he laid eyes on it, it reminded him of something he’d find in his old room.

There were red lines traced on the map, some followed old roads in and out of the town, and some of them were etched over the roads that led into the preserve that were now closed. There were pushpins in the map, all of them different colors.

There was a red one, two blue ones, and a yellow one, which were all clustered on the part of the map that Stiles knew was the old Hale house. On the other side of the map, which Stiles realized was the neighborhood that Allison lived in, was another cluster of pins. There were two black pins, and one pink pin. Stiles noticed that there was another hole next to the cluster of black pins, like something had just been taken off the map.

There was a clear one a couple of inches away from Allison’s house, roughly in the area of Lydia’s neighborhood.

And then, in the middle of the map, was Stiles’ house with two pins pressed into it. One white, and one green.

Stiles felt goosebumps rise on his arm, he fumbled his hands into his pocket to pull out his phone so he could take a picture of the map. He unlocked it, made sure the flash was on, and snapped a picture of it so they could look at it more later.

“Stiles.”

Stiles jumped at the voice behind him, he instinctively knew it didn’t belong to Lydia, so he panicked. He flattened his palm and shoved it out as he spun towards the voice, sending a burst of magic at whoever was behind him. He realized who it was too late, and he turned just in time to see Allison’s eyes go wide as she was shoved back towards the far wall of the office.

“Oh my god!” Stiles gasped as Allison’s back slammed into the wall, “I’m so sorry.”

Allison stared at him, her hand pressed over the center of her chest, “I…guess I shouldn’t have surprised you?”

Stiles shook his head rapidly, “No! Oh my god, no, I mean, no, it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have…magicked you without thinking first. It’s totally not your fault!”

Allison stepped away from the wall, “At least you didn’t blow my head off?”

“I don’t think I’ve quite mastered blowing heads off yet.” Stiles cocked his head to the side, “That would be cool if I could though.”

Allison arched an eyebrow at him.

“Strictly for supernatural creatures who are trying to eat me, of course!”

“Stiles?” Lydia called out from the warehouse, “Are you OK?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles yelled back, “It’s all good, Lyds! Allison is here!”

“I know.” Lydia said, “I saw her come in.”

“She could have said something.” Stiles grumbled, “She knows how jumpy I am.”

Allison laughed, then took a deep breath, “Find anything?”

Stiles looked over his shoulder and at the map, “Yeah. I think Gerard has been keeping tabs on us more than we thought.”

“What do you mean?” Allison asked.

Stiles pointed at the map, “Look.”

He stepped to the side to let Allison edge around him towards the map. He stood back and crossed his arms, leaning his hip against the desk as she leaned in and inspected it.

Allison ran her finger over the map, stopping just above her house, “This is all of us.”

“Almost.” Stiles said, he walked over and stopped next to her and pointed at the map, “The part in the preserve is Laura, Derek, Peter, and I think Scott.”

“A red, two blues, and a yellow.” Allison nodded, “There’s only one yellow though, which means he doesn’t know about Erica.”

Stiles nodded, “There’s nothing for Isaac either. The clear one is Lydia, and the middle of the map is obviously me and my dad.”

“And this is me.” Allison pointed to the pink pin.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, “You, your dad, and Gerard.”

“There was something else here.” Allison said, “One for my mom.”

“Yeah, Scott told me what happened.” Stiles took a deep breath, “I hated when people told me they were sorry for my loss, so I’m not going to say that to you, but I’m here if you need to talk to someone who knows what you’re going through.”

Allison turned and looked at him, “You didn’t even like my mom.”

“True.” Stiles shrugged, “But she’s still your mom, and that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be upset that she’s gone.”

Allison took a breath, Stiles watched as her body shuddered, “What about the files?”

“What?” Stiles asked.

“We can’t waste time.” Allison stepped around him and picked up the first file in the stack on the desk, “Have you gone through these yet?”

“Oh, no.” Stiles shook his head.

Allison flipped her folder open and then handed one to Stiles, “These are like the shipping memos I found in Gerard’s room.”

Stiles scanned the pages with his eyes, there wasn’t much on them, they mostly looked like shipping manifests with case numbers and order totals. The date on the one Stiles was reading said that the first shipment arrived just a week after Kate’s funeral. Stiles could only imagine what was in the boxes that came in.

“The bottom of the page is signed GA.” Stiles said, “And unless Green Arrow has decided to become a small-town crime lord, I think we all know who it is.”

“Stiles…” Allison trailed off, looking up at him, “This one isn’t signed GA.”

Stiles took the file from Allison, read the initials at the bottom, and looked back up at her, “VA? _Victoria_?”

“It’s dated a week before she left on the trip with my dad.” Allison flipped open the other files on the desk and turned to the last page in each of them, “They are all either signed GA or VA...they were in on this together.”

“Jesus.” Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, “OK…so your mom and Gerard were both working on whatever the hell this is, and then your mom dies right before whatever big thing is supposed to happen, happens.”

“I know Gerard had her killed, but I thought it was about me.” Allison shook her head, “I don’t believe this! I know she agreed with some of what Kate did, but I never thought she’d be involved in something like this. Oh god, what if my dad is too?”

Stiles shook his head, “Don’t jump to conclusions, there’s nothing in here that says your dad is involved. In the craziness hierarchy of your family, I think your dad is pretty near the ground floor.”

“Or maybe he’s just not dumb enough to sign his initials on evidence of illegal activities.” Allison rolled her eyes.

“I dunno,” Stiles shrugged, “a company named Happy Bear Deliveries sounds pretty legit to me.”

Stiles edged in next to Allison at the desk, he pulled out his phone and started taking pictures of each file in case they never got a chance to see them again. It was evidence, and even if it was only circumstantial, his dad could possibly use it in the future.

Actually, it was illegally obtained so he literally couldn’t use it, but Stiles didn’t think taking a case about werewolf hunters to a court of law would be advisable. 

“I found something out here.” Lydia called from outside the office.

Stiles and Allison shared a look before she started to put the files back in order. She left the office before him, and Stiles closed the door after he walked out. He held his hand over the handle until he heard the lock click back into place, and turned to see Lydia kneeling in the far left corner of the warehouse.

“Look.” Lydia pointed to the ground when Stiles and Allison finally got to her.

There were several parts of the floor that weren’t as dirty as the rest, almost perfectly square shapes in the middle of the dusty floor. It looked like large boxes had been sitting there for a while before being moved. They weren’t what Lydia was pointing to though, she seemed to be more interested in the small pile of white powder on the floor.

“Is that what I think it is?” Allison asked.

“Are you thinking it’s baking soda, because if you are, you’re probably wrong.” Stiles said.

Allison and Lydia’s looks were equally as withering.

Lydia reached into her bag and pulled out a plastic slip that had the familiar blocky letters of BHSD stamped on it. Stiles watched as she ripped it open and turned it over, catching a small test tube and a plastic vial filled with liquid in her free hand.

“Lydia, where did you get that?” Stiles asked.

Lydia’s eyes flicked towards him for a second, then she pulled out her wallet and slid out a gift card to the movie theatre in town, “I borrowed it.”

“You borrowed a field drug testing kid from the sheriff’s department?” Stiles deadpanned.

“Yes.” Lydia said, apparently not willing to elaborate.

Lydia uncorked the test tube with her teeth, then used the gift card to scoop up a bit of the powder on the ground. She dumped the powder into the test tube, blew the excess off the gift card before sliding it back into her wallet, then tore the top of the plastic vial. She dropped the fluid into the test tube, corked it again, and shook the contents up.

“What’s happening?” Allison asked.

“It’s a field testing kit for drugs.” Stiles explained, “The deputies keep them on hand in their cars in case they come across someone with a substance that they need to know is drugs or not. The liquid inside will turn blue in a few seconds if if’s coke, yellow if it’s crack, and green if it’s meth.”

Stiles didn’t know how Lydia got her hands on one, but he wasn’t complaining. When Lydia opened her palm, the liquid inside the tube was blue.

“El Chapo eat your heart out.” Stiles muttered.

“It looks like this is only a day or two old.” Lydia said, “The floor around this whole area is cleaner than the rest.”

Stiles pulled out his phone and scrolled through his pictures until he found one of the most recent file that was in the office, “That lines up with the shipping manifest, but it doesn’t say where it’s going.”

“Hopefully far away from here.” Lydia said.

“I know how we can find out.” Allison said.

“How?” Stiles asked.

Allison reached into the bag that was pulled across her body and pulled out several things that looked like tiny black shirt buttons. She held them out on her palm and showed them to Stiles and Lydia.

“These are hidden cameras.” Allison said, “I want to place them around the warehouse so we’ll be able to see what’s happening inside.”

Stiles nodded, “OK, James Bond.”

“How do they transmit?” Lydia asked.

“WIFI.” Allison held up her hand to stop Lydia from cutting her off, “I’m aware there’s no WIFI in this building, but I set up a hotspot in a tree a couple hundred yards from here. It’s solar powered, so there’s no danger of it dying.”

“Well you just think of everything, don’t you?” Lydia quipped.

Allison shrugged, “I have to.”

“Where do you want to put them?” Stiles asked.

“I have five of them, so I was thinking one in the upper part of each corner, and one in the office in the back.” Allison eyed the upper walkway that surrounded the warehouse, “They’re small enough that you can barely see them, and I’ve tested them on every type of bug scanner we have and they don’t register because their output is so minimal.”

“Is there anything you guys don’t have in that fortress you call a house?” Stiles laughed.

“Probably not.” Allison answered honestly.

“Good to know.” Stiles said, “You can place the one in the back, I’ll take care of the ones on the ceiling.”

“You sure?” Allison asked, arching a dubious eyebrow, “I’m not sure I feel totally comfortable with someone as gravity challenged as you walking up there.”

Stiles sighed, “Oh ye of little faith.”

Stiles waved his hand over Allison’s palm, he wiggled his fingers slightly just to be dramatic, then four of the small camera started to levitate. Stiles concentrated on them one at a time, guiding each one to a separate corner of the room. He tried to tuck them away in the darkest crevices so that they’d be extra safe, but there was no way anyone on the ground would ever possibly be able to see them.

Allison pulled a small tablet out of her bag, she swiped her finger across the screen, then turned it around to show Stiles and Lydia. Four small boxes popped up on the screen, each one showing a different angle on the warehouse. She left the tablet with Stiles, then dashed back towards the office and used a lock pick to unlock the door. After about a minute, a fifth box popped up on the screen that showed the office.

The camera was positioned so that it was facing the map of Beacon Hills.

Allison’s face filled the screen, causing Stiles to jump, “How does it look?”

“All good!” Stiles called out.

Allison stuck her head out of the office, then stepped out and closed the door behind her, she pulled out her lockpick and relocked the door before Stiles could get over to it, “OK then, I think we’re all set.”

After a final camera check, they left the warehouse. Lydia took great care in making sure everything was left exactly the way it was when they came in. Stiles used his magic to redo the padlock on the door, and he even scooped up a bit of dirt and threw it on the padlock to make up for the dust that he’s wiped off whenever he touched it.

With any luck, no one would ever know they were there.

“I should go.” Allison said.

Stiles nodded, “You gonna be OK?”

“I will be.” Allison said after a moment of hesitation, “I don’t really have any other choice.”

Lydia reached out, quickly pulling Allison into a crushing hug, “Promise me you’ll call if you’re in over your head and you need help.”

Allison smiled when she pulled away from the hug, “I will. I promise.”

“Good.” Stiles said, hugging her too, “Just say the word and you’ll have an army of pissed off werewolves, an angry banshee, and one dude who can semi-reliably do some cool magic to back you up. I’d like to see Gerard even try to stop us.”

“I wouldn’t.” Allison said glumly.

“Don’t be depressing.” Stiles poked her shoulder, “I’m trying to sound heroic.”

Allison rolled her eyes, “Be safe you two.”

“You too.” Stiles said to her back as she turned away from them, “And watch out for flying not-vampire vampire monsters!”

Allison’s only reply was a thumbs up.

Stiles sighed, he dragged a hand through his hair and turned back to Lydia, “We should get out of here, tell everyone what we found.”

“Try to obey the speed limit, I still have drugs on me.” Lydia said, walking towards the Jeep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the wait, i guess i needed more of a break from this than i realized! but i'm reinvigorated, re-energized, and ready to finish this up! i'll be back with a new chapter next week! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed! i look forward to the comments!


	16. Coffee

Chapter Sixteen

Coffee

 

Laura smiled as she slid a few twenty-dollar bills across the counter. She eyes the three drink carriers in front of her and tried to figure out the smartest way to transport them, she figured it would be easiest to stack them all on top of each other, she was pretty good at keeping things precariously balanced and the coffee shop was just down the road from the station.

Laura picked up one of the trays, stacked it on top of the bottom one, then put a third on top of the one in the middle. It didn’t wobble dangerously as she picked it up, but she placed her hand on top of the tower of coffee just to be safe.

The girl behind the counter was looking at Laura with wide, confused eyes. Laura just smiled, “Keep the change.”

She slowly made her way out of the coffee shop, using her shoulder to push the door open. The sidewalk outside was mostly empty, she could even see the station from down the road. It was easier to move just a bit faster than a normal human once she was outside, to anyone who happened to notice, it would just look like she was aggressively power walking with a stack of coffee in her hands.

Weird, but not supernatural.

Before Laura could quicken her pace, an amused voice stopped her, “Need a hand?”

Laura looked over her shoulder to see Jordan standing behind her, “I think I’ve got it.”

“You sure?” Jordan laughed, “I have two very capable hands right here.”

Jordan held both his hands up, waggling his fingers dramatically. They were capable, Laura knew that for sure. She also knew that she missed those hands, and she hadn’t gotten a chance to be alone with them since the night after the full moon. She also hadn’t apologized to those hands for snapping at them, and those hands were probably a little annoyed that she didn’t let them know about her little plan at the station.

Laura sighed, “I suppose you could offer your assistance.”

“It’s my duty, ma’am.” Jordan mimed tipping a hat he wasn’t wearing.

Jordan circled around her front, he grabbed the top tray from the stack with his right hand, and then the second tray with his left hand. Laura stared at him, and Jordan just shrugged.

“This was nice of you, by the way.” Jordan said.

“What?” Laura asked.

Jordan angled his head towards the coffee trays, “Tara said you volunteered to get everyone coffee.”

“Oh. Duh.” Laura shook her head, “I figured it would help with morale.”

Jordan was quiet for a moment before he spoke, “I’ve never seen it that somber in there. I guess a church full of teenagers getting killed will do that though.”

“Yeah, it was pretty brutal.” Laura said, trying to keep her voice as neutral as possible.

“You saw the pictures?” Laura nodded when Jordan asked, “I’ve gotta say, I’m glad I wasn’t on shift when the call came in.”

This piqued Laura’s interest, “Do you know who got the call?”

“It was Collins and Anders.” Jordan said, “Anders has barely said anything all day, which is crazy because he never stops talking.”

“Was he the one who figured out it was a bear attack?” Laura asked.

“We don’t know it was a bear for sure,” Jordan said, “but no, it was Collins who came up with that one. We’re still waiting on Doctor Deaton to look at it for us.”

“Collins.” Laura repeated, committing the name to memory, “By the way, I’m sorry for the other night.”

The Sheriff had already told her about Collins’ name, but Jordan had no way of knowing that. They were a few doors down from the station now, Laura could see Derek’s SUV parked in front of the library across the street.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Jordan said, “I was an ass. I mean, I didn’t mean to be an ass, but I was still an ass.”

“You were just curious.” Laura said, “You were right, we haven’t exactly gotten to do much...talking in between everything else.”

Jordan tipped his head back and laughed, “You mean in between you using me as a piece of meat to gnaw on?”

Laura gasped, “I do not gnaw!”

“I’ve got several bite marks that say differently.” Jordan smirked, “Not that I’m opposed to those bite marks, I wear them like a badge of honor. But I wouldn’t be opposed to more talking in between biting either.”

“Wow, we really have to stop talking about me biting you.” Laura groaned.

“What are you doing tonight?” Jordan asked, hastily adding, “At a normal time, like dinner.”

“Deputy Parrish, are you asking me out on a date?” Laura stopped in front of the door to the station.

“Yes.” Jordan pushed the door open with his shoulder and held it in place for Laura as she walked through.

“I suppose I can fit you into my busy schedule.” Laura sat her tray of drinks down on the reception table and took both trays from Jordan.

“I’m glad.” Jordan’s radio chirped, “Shit, I’ve gotta go. I’ll pick you up around seven?”

Laura nodded, “It’s a date.”

As she watched Jordan dash out the door, Laura wondered if she’d ever find the right balance between truth and lie with him. The sensible thing to do would be to tell Jordan the truth, and maybe that would happen in a different world, but Laura couldn’t allow another vulnerability like that. She had the Pack to look out for, and going around telling cute guys their secret because she didn’t want to lie to them wouldn’t work.

It was times like this that Laura wished her mother were still around to talk to.

Laura turned at the sound of footsteps behind her, “Sheriff.”

“Laura,” Noah nodded, “my office?”

“Sure.” Laura followed Noah to his office, she paused outside his door, “Coffee is up front! The cups should have your names on them.”

Laura stepped inside the office and closed the door after a chorus of “Thank you.”

“So, what do we know?” Laura asked.

Noah leaned against his desk, “Deaton has kindly confirmed the claw marks on the bodies match a California black bear, and the damage at the church is being chalked up to pre-existing structural damage from the earthquake that was disturbed during the attack. But that’s not even the best part.”

“What?” Laura asked.

“I just got back from visiting a deputy in the hospital, says he was attacked by someone at the church last night.” Noah pinched the bridge of his nose, “ _Someone_ , not something.  He’s got a nasty concussion, but he swears someone dressed in all black with a mask on attacked him in the church.”

“Why was he at the church?” Laura asked.

“Standard protocol to have someone guard a crime scene like this overnight.” Noah answered, “Please tell me it wasn’t one of the kids who attacked him.”

“Of course not.” Laura said, “It sounds like it was a hunter, they probably went in to look at the scene after they heard about an animal attack.”

“Jesus.” Noah hissed, “They could have killed one of my men!”

“If they wanted him dead, he would have been.” Laura pointed out.

Noah scrubbed a hand down his face, “I’m already getting sick of this. Have you found out anything?”

“Everyone I’ve talked to so far checks out.” Laura said, “I’ve grilled people as subtly as I can, but no one has given off any signs that they’re not telling the truth. I still want to talk to Deputy Collins though.”

“I still think you’re barking up the wrong tree with Sandra, I’ve known her for years.” Noah paused, “Wait, I didn’t mean that as a dog joke.”

Laura fondly rolled her eyes, “I’m not ruling anyone out until I’ve spoken to them directly. I just want to know what made her think it was a bear attack.”

“She just got here, her desk is right next to Parrish’s.” Noah said, waving his hand towards the door.

“I’ll go talk to her now.” Laura stopped before she left the office, “Oh, is the report finished?”

“Yes.” Noah said.

Laura smiled sweetly, “Can I have a copy?”

“Oh god, I have another Stiles.” Noah groaned.

“I asked, Stiles would just steal it.” Laura pointed out.

“True.” Noah huffed, he pulled a flash drive out of his computer and tossed it at Laura, “I don’t know how you got that.”

“Got what?” Laura frowned, tucking the drive in her pocket.

Noah dropped down into his chair and pressed his fingers against his temples, Laura left him alone.

The station was a bit busier than it had been a few minutes before. Laura could see a cup from the coffee shop on the edge of almost every desk, and she politely nodded to each person who thanked her as she walked past. Laura learned early on that the way to get people to like you quickly was to give them things, it’s why her group presentations in school always got such high grades, everyone was willing to work hard with her before she plied them with food and gifts.

She had most of the department eating out of the palm of her hand by now, and the ones who weren’t infatuated with her were high up on Laura’s list of suspects. Deputy Sandra Collins hadn’t spoken a word to Laura since she’d arrived, and Laura wasn’t willing to trust anyone else’s assessment of her.

Laura swiped the brownie she’d left for Jordan off his desk as she approached Deputy Collins. She was hunched over her computer, her fingers flying across the keyboard quickly.

“Deputy Collins?” Laura asked softly.

Collins jumped, she looked up at Laura with tired eyes, deep circles set underneath them, “Yes?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” Laura smiled apologetically, “I just wanted to give you this.”

Collins eyed the bag skeptically, but reached out and took it anyway. She opened it and stared at the brownie at the bottom of the bag, “What’s this for?”

“I heard you were at the church, and I just thought-”

Collins cut her off, her heartbeat hitching, “You just thought that a brownie would make up for the fact that I had to see ripped up teenagers on the last hour of my shift?”

Laura held up both of her hands, she took a step backwards, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Collins was angry, but it didn’t seem to be directed at Laura herself. She’d talked to plenty of people who hated werewolves, and Collins wasn’t giving off any of the usual tells. They always smelled bitter, like burnt meat, but Collins just smelled sad and angry.

Laura didn’t think Collins knew anything, it was probably best to leave her alone. She turned away and walked back to the front of the station, but Collins’ voice stopped her.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Collins called out, Laura turned back around to face her, “I’m sorry, you were just trying to be kind.”

Laura shook her head, “No, I understand. I can’t imagine what it was like seeing all of that.”

“I haven’t gotten much sleep since then.” Collins laughed bitterly, “It’s made me kind of a monster.”

“Totally understandable.” Laura said.

“You’re Laura, right?” Collins asked, “The big shot from New York?”

“I’d hardly call myself a big shot.” Laura laughed, she stuck out her hand, “Laura Hale.”

Collins shook it, “Sandra Collins.”

“Nice to officially meet you.” Laura said, “I don’t envy you, I’ve never seen a bear attack, and I don’t think I want to.”

“So it was a bear then?” Collins asked.

Laura cocked her head to the side, “You didn’t know? I thought you were the one who suggested it?”

“I only said that because of Anders.” Collins said.

“Your partner?” Laura asked.

“Yeah,” Collins said, “Anders has been talking about how there was increased bear presence lately, whatever that means. A bear was the first thing I thought of when I saw…everything. Mostly because I didn’t want to believe that a human could do something like what we saw.”

“Is he here?” Laura asked, looking around slightly.

Collins shook her head, “He said he was taking a few sick days. It’s probably best, you wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway.”

“Why not?” Laura inquired.

“Anders is an…acquired taste.” Collins said delicately, “Let’s just say that I’m one of the only people left in the station who will put up with him.”

Interesting.

“Thanks for the warning then,” Laura smiled, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks for this.” Collins said, pulling the brownie out of the bag and taking a bite out of it.

Laura left her with a nod. She eyed the desk across from Collins’, the one with the nameplate that read Carl Anders.

Laura suddenly had a new name at the top of her list.

 

X

 

Derek spotted a familiar mop of curls from behind, slumped into one of the plush chairs in the libraries reading area. He sat down the stack of books he was carrying to re-shelve and walked over, rounding the front of the chair to see Isaac slouched in it reading a book on beginner’s self-defense.

“Isaac?” Derek said.

Isaac startled, he looked over the top of the book with wide eyes, “Oh. Derek. I forgot you worked here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” Derek smiled.

“You’re not. Bothering me.” Isaac closed the book, “I was just reading. I come here sometimes because I like how quiet it is.”

“Me too.” Derek said, his voice a bit louder than a whisper, “I’ve always liked libraries, they’re quiet, but they’re not lonely.”

Isaac smiled, “Yeah. Exactly.”

Derek hadn’t spent much time alone with Isaac, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was a part of Isaac that reminded Derek of himself before the fire. He was shy, slightly awkward, and more than a little guarded. The only difference was that Derek grew up with a family who loved him, and Isaac was left with exactly the opposite. As loathe as Derek was to admit it, Peter seemed to be doing wonders for Isaac, but Isaac could probably use more positive attention than just Peter.

“Self-defense, huh?” Derek asked, pointing at the book.

“Oh. It’s dumb, it’s not like you learn it from a book.” Isaac blushed, pushing the book away.

“It’s not dumb, you can learn a lot from a book like that. Reading about the basics would probably give you a leg up in training.” Derek said, “I read a lot about yoga before I started doing it seriously, it helped me a lot.”

“Erica started teaching me some stuff the other day.” Isaac said, “It took a while, but I think I can throw a proper punch now.”

Derek laughed, “Well, if anyone is going to teach you that, it’s Erica.”

Erica splintered a tree in half with a single punch the first day of her training after the bite. It was a small tree, but it was still a tree.

“She was a lot of help.” Isaac said, then added quietly, “I had fun.”

“Good.” Derek smiled, “You know we’re all here to help, right? Don’t be scared to ask anyone to do anything, or help you with whatever you need, it’s all part of being a Pack.”

Isaac looked too stunned to answer.

“Stiles and I do yoga in the woods some mornings, you’re welcome to join us whenever.” Derek added, “I think you’d like it. I’d say it’s more welcomed quiet, but Stiles is there so it’s impossible to guarantee silence.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Isaac shook his head.

Before Derek could reply, he heard the sound of Stiles’ voice enter the library. He also heard someone harshly whisper at him, which meant that Stiles was probably on his phone when he came inside. Derek sighed, shaking his head, and waited for Stiles to find them.

When Stiles was around the corner, Derek said, “You can ask Stiles yourself.”

“Hey Isaac, ask me what?” Stiles came up behind him, he pointed at Derek, “Also, creepy.”

“I heard you come in.” Derek said by way of explanation, “I also heard you get scolded by Mary-Anne.”

“I think Mary-Anne is a demon, there’s no reason to be that mean to people.” Stiles huffed.

“She’s only mean to you, she loves me.” Derek smirked.

“She’s probably an ancient, evil, old succubus.” Stiles glared in what Derek assumed was the general direction of his coworker, “She just wants to sleep with you to steal your life force.”

Derek huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes, “I’ll be sure to watch out for her.”

“Anyway, what was Isaac supposed to ask me?” Stiles asked.

“I invited Isaac to try out yoga with us sometime.” Derek said.

“Oh, dude!” Stiles grinned, dropping down into the chair in front of Isaac, “You’d love it!”

“Really?” Isaac looked shocked.

Stiles nodded, “It’s like, super relaxing. And according to _some people_ , it’s very entertaining to see me fall face first into the dirt.”

“It really is.” Derek grinned.

“You really wouldn’t mind?” Isaac asked.

Stiles shook his head, “As long as you don’t mind waking up before the sun does. Yogi Wolf over here finds more Zen when the only thing awake in the world is him.”

“I don’t mind.” Isaac said, “I wake up early anyway.”

“Sweet.” Stiles clapped his hands together, “I’ll text you next time we make plans to go?”

“Sure.” Isaac said.

Derek tipped his head to the side as he caught Laura’s scent, a few seconds later she came around the corner.

“That woman up front is evil.” Laura huffed, “She glared at me for no reason.”

Derek pointed to the cup of coffee in her hand, “It’s probably that.”

Laura looked down at her coffee, then back at Derek, “No. She’s just evil.”

“Thank you!” Stiles hopped up and gave Laura an exaggerated hug, “Now, do you know how to kill a succubus?”

Isaac laughed quietly, “You guys are so weird.”

“Not as weird as a succubus.” Stiles pointed at him, he turned to Laura, “What’s up?”

Laura reached into her pocket and pulled out a black flash drive, she twisted it between her fingers, then tossed it to Stiles, “Your dad gave me the report on the church.”

Stiles stared at her, “He just _gave_ it to you?”

“Yep.” Laura grinned at him.

“I’m offended.” Stiles pouted, “I’d have to resort to borrowing it without asking, but he just gives it to you.”

“He said something like that.” Laura laughed, “Though I think the word he used was _steal_.”

“What is a word anyway?” Stiles tapped his chin.

Derek rolled his eyes, “If you two are done being cute, can we look at this? I have to get back to work soon.”

Laura and Stiles turned on him instantly, both wearing matching grins.

“Aw, you think we’re cute?” Stiles cooed.

“No.” Derek deadpanned.

“Too late, baby brother.” Laura grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in between her and Stiles, “Once you said it, you can’t take it back!”

Derek didn’t have time for any threats of bodily harm before he felt two equally wet and gross kisses on either of his cheeks. Laura was to his left, and Stiles to his right. Derek felt his cheeks heating in embarrassment, he tried to get away, but Laura’s strength held him in place.

“Isaac, take a picture!” Stiles mumbled, his words coming out slurred because his mouth was pressed against Derek’s cheek.

“Isaac, don’t!” Derek pleaded.

“Please, Isaac!” Laura cooed, “I’ll pull Alpha rank if I have to!”

Isaac’s eyes darted between the three of them, they lingered on Laura for a few extra seconds, and Derek saw the moment that Isaac decided to give in and listen to her. He dropped his shoulders in defeat, waiting for Isaac to take the stupid picture so he could get back to his life.

“I’m sorry.” Isaac said, though he didn’t exactly sound like it.

“Just get it over with.” Derek sighed.

Laura tossed Isaac her phone, and Isaac took a step back. Derek did nothing but glare at the phone until he heard the shutter snap of the camera. Laura let him go right after, and if it was anyone other than Isaac, Derek would have ripped the phone out of their hands and crushed it just to make a point.

But it was Isaac, and Derek wasn’t a monster.

Isaac tossed the phone back to Laura, and Laura sent a copy of the picture to Stiles.

“I’m so making this my background.” Stiles laughed, “Look how mad he looks!”

“It’s more than a look.” Derek growled softly.

“Cheer up, big guy.” Stiles smiled, bumping his shoulder into Derek’s, “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

“Oh?” Derek arched an eyebrow.

“Totally!” Stiles nodded, “Date night! You choose what you want to do, and I won’t complain about anything.”

“You won’t complain about anything?” Derek deadpanned.

“Ok, I won’t complain about _everything_.” Stiles amended.

“You’re impossible.” Derek shook his head.

“But you love me anyway.” Stiles smirked.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, “God knows why.”

“Remember that in a few seconds.” Stiles said.

“What? Why?” Derek asked.

Laura looked over her shoulder, “Stiles, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Stiles held both hands up, “I mean, not really.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand and pulled him into one of the empty private study rooms in the library. Isaac followed behind them, and Laura came in last. She locked the door once everyone was inside, then turned back to Stiles.

“Start talking.” Laura crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip out to the side.

“So, I was hanging out with Lydia, and I got a text.” Stiles pulled out the chair in front of the computer in the study room, “It was from Allison, and she wanted me to meet her somewhere. Lydia came with me, because obviously I wasn’t going to go alone even though we totally trust Allison, and we ended up at some warehouse in the woods.”

“There’s warehouses in the woods?” Isaac asked.

“Dude, there’s everything in the woods here.” Stiles shook his head, “There’s nothing we could find out there that would surprise me at this point.”

“What happened?” Derek asked.

“Nothing, because the warehouse was empty. No bloodshed or bodies to dispose of!” Stiles awkwardly waved his hands in celebration, “But it is where Gerard and his guys have been bringing drugs into Beacon Hills, Lydia found some powder on the ground and it tested positive as cocaine. And before you ask, yes Lydia does just carry around a field narcotic testing kit.”

“Do you remember where it is?” Laura asked.

“Yep, I still have the directions in my phone.” Stiles held up his phone, “But we don’t have to worry about it, Allison set up hidden surveillance cameras inside and sent me a link to view them, so we’ve got eyes on the place without having to risk sending someone out to watch it.”

Laura sighed, dragging a hand through her hair, “This is the kind of thing that you need to tell me before you do, Stiles! Imagine if something had gone wrong.”

“I know, OK?” Stiles’ shoulders slumped, “It was an impulsive spur of the moment thing, and everyone else was busy, I figured the three of us could handle it if something did happen.”

“That’s not the point, Stiles!” Derek took a deep breath, he tried to calm himself, “That’s not the point.”

“I know.” Stiles said again, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do it again.” Derek leaned in and kissed the crown of Stiles’ head, he lingered for a moment, hoping the scent of being close to Stiles would fight away the worry that was building in his chest.

It hadn’t been that long ago that Stiles was taken by Jennifer, and Derek could still feel the tightly coiled dread in his chest whenever he thought about it.

Laura squeezed the back of Derek’s neck before she spoke, “Was there anything else there other than the drugs?”

“Yes.” Stiles pulled out his phone, he opened a picture of a map, “Gerard has been watching us.”

Derek took the phone from Stiles and zoomed in on the picture. It was a map of Beacon Hills, and it was dotted with different color thumbtacks. They were grouped in different areas of the map, and Derek could make out what they meant almost immediately.

“What does it mean?” Isaac asked.

“The ones by the old Hale house are for Laura, Peter, Derek, and Scott. The ones on the other corner of the map are Gerard, Allison, and her dad. The clear one is Lydia, and the ones in the middle are me and my dad.” Stiles said, “There’s nothing that represents you or Erica though.”

“Send me a copy of that.” Laura said.

Stiles tapped on the screen of his phone after grabbing it back from Derek, “Done.”

Laura’s phone buzzed, she opened the picture and stared at it intently, “I’m so fucking sick of this old man.”

“You and me both.” Stiles agreed.

“I’m sending this to everyone, they need to see it.” Laura said, “I’ll be the one to tell your dad, I have to go back over there after this anyway.”

Stiles nodded, “Lydia was meeting Erica and Peter out at the church to see if they could track where the Aswang went, she was going to show them.”

“Shit.” Laura hissed, “I forgot about that.”

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked.

“The Sheriff told me that a deputy was attacked last night at the church by someone dressed in all black, they gave him a concussion and put him in the hospital.” Laura let out a deep breath, “I’ll give you one guess.”

“A hunter?” Stiles asked.

“Of course.” Derek answered, “We already know that Gerard is interested in the Aswang, it makes sense he’d want to see the church.”

“They’re with Peter, they should be fine.” Isaac said, “Right? Peter wouldn’t let anyone get hurt.”

“I’m not worried about anyone getting hurt, I’m worried about Peter losing his cool if he sees a hunter.” Derek said, “We’ve managed to avoid any kind of meaningful encounter with them thus far, but Peter’s a wildcard.”

Isaac shook his head, “I don’t think Peter would do anything to risk someone else. I don’t know him as well as you, but…”

“Isaac is right,” Stiles said, “Peter’s crazy, but he’s not that crazy.”

“Let me just call him anyway.” Laura pulled out her phone and dialed Peter’s number.

Derek listened to the phone ring, then Peter answered a few seconds later, “Peter Hale speaking, how may I assist you?”

Derek and Laura rolled their eyes in tandem, Laura spoke, “Peter, are you at the church?”

“Yes.” Peter said, “Erica is here, and the Banshee is getting out of her car now.”

“I can hear you.” Lydia yelled in the background.

“I’m aware.” Peter yelled back, then asked Laura, “Why?”

“I just heard from the Sheriff that one of his deputies was attacked at the church last night, it was a person dressed in all black and wearing a mask.” Laura said.

“Hunters.” Peter said, his voice uncomfortably quiet.

“Most likely.” Laura said, “Make sure you keep your eyes and ears open when you’re tracking in the woods, and don’t engage if you do see anyone.”

“Unless the situation calls for it.” Peter said.

“Peter, you’re not the only one out there.” Laura’s voice carried a warning.

Peter sighed, “I am aware, Laura. You have my word, I will not engage with any hunter that I see, unless it’s unavoidable.”

Laura shook her head and sighed, “Fine. I want updates every five minutes though.”

“Yes ma’am, Alpha ma’am.” Peter said, then hung up the phone.

“I suppose that’s the best I could have hoped for.” Laura rolled her eyes.

“I think it’ll be fine,” Isaac said, “Peter cares too much to do anything stupid enough to get someone hurt.”

Derek stared at Isaac. It was hard to think there was someone out there who had a different perspective on Peter, someone who hadn’t grown up with him, and who hadn’t been hurt by some of the actions he’d taken in the past.

Isaac only saw the good in Peter, and Derek envied him a little for it. He and Peter had been slowly mending their relationship, but sometimes Derek couldn’t help but remember things that had happened.

Derek shook his head, now wasn’t the time to think about stuff like that, “Let’s focus on the file for now.”

“Right.” Stiles plugged the flash drive in the computer.

Stiles clicked the folder, and the first image that popped up was the front of a yellow folder with the word confidential stamped across the front.

“Pretend we didn’t see that.” Stiles clicked through to the next picture.

The first page detailed the initial observations about the crime scene. The officer who was writing described the blood, the mangled bodies, and the absolute destruction in the church.  Luckily, the officer hypothesized that the destruction was caused by the earthquake, and only made worse by a rampaging bear inside the cathedral.

Whatever they needed to tell themselves to get through it.

The next page contained pictures of each of the victims’ ID cards. They were all young, only nineteen years old. They’d graduated from Beacon Hills High the year before, and were staff members of the church’s youth group outreach program.  

“Do you recognize any of them?” Derek asked, “They went to your school.”

“The guy in the middle, Chandler Thomas, he was the editor of the yearbook last year.” Stiles said, “I only remember him because Lydia once said he gave her the creeps, and Lydia is a fantastic judge of character.”

“I know that guy.” Isaac pointed to the face under Chandler Thomas, “Ryan Keller, he was on the debate team. I had detention with him once.”

“Print that page, we’ll see if anyone else knows them.” Laura said, “Try to figure out if this was random, of if it was something else.”

“You think the Aswang is going around killing people intentionally?” Isaac asked.

“It’s possible.” Laura said, “This is someone who’s newly turned, it’s not something that’s been around for years and only kills to feed, it’s someone with crazy new power who might be taking advantage of it.”

“If we could get their school records, we could see if there’s any other connections.” Stiles said, “Find out if they shared clubs, or if they’d been disciplined for anything major. Do you remember why he was in detention, Isaac?”

Isaac shook his head, “No.”

“That’s fine.” Stiles said, he grinned, “You wanna come over to my house and hack into the school’s computer with me?”

Isaac gaped at him, “You can do that?”

“I can try.” Stiles shrugged, “And if I can’t, I’m sure Lydia can figure it out.”

“Let me know if you find anything interesting.” Laura pulled the flash drive from the computer and slid it back in her pocket, “I need to get back across the street.”

“I have to get back to work too.” Derek said.

Stiles stood up from the chair and stretched his arms out to the side, “Looks like it’s just you and me, Isaac. Jeep’s out front.”

“OK.” Isaac nodded, he walked to the door of the study room.

Derek gave Stiles a quick kiss before he left, “See you tonight?”

“You bet.” Stiles kissed him back, “After seven?”

Derek nodded, smiling, “It’s a date.”

Derek busied himself cleaning up the study space while Laura lingered by the door. She turned back to him once Stiles and Isaac were out of earshot.

“What do you think about all of this?” Laura asked.

Derek sighed, “I think I have a bad feeling, but I can’t tell why.”

“Same.” Laura dragged her hand through her hair.

“We’ll get through it though.” Derek said, “All of us. Together.”

Laura smiled softly, “When did you start becoming the optimistic one?”

“It’s a tough job, but somebody has to do it.” Derek said, pulling her into a hug.

 

X

 

Peter hung back while Erica and Lydia moved forward through the forest. Their adventure was just as much about training as it was about finding a lead on the Aswang, and Peter wanted to see just how well Erica could track something through the woods.

“What am I looking for?” Erica asked.

“You’re not looking, you’re smelling.” Peter said.

“What am I _smelling_ for then?” Erica rolled her eyes.

“You’ll know it when you smell it.” Peter hummed, “Honestly, you should already know since you’ve fought the thing before.”

“I was too busy trying to make sure Lydia didn’t die to get a good smell.” Erica said.

“And that is the first place you went wrong.” Peter said, “You should be engaging all your senses when you fight, not just rely on your strength and speed. Scent tells you more than anything, it can tell you when someone is angry, or sad, or happy. Scent can let you identify small pivots of the body, the way the smell wafts off their body can tell you if they’re moving quickly to reach for a hidden weapon.”

“I found something.” Lydia said, interrupting Peter’s lesson.

“I was trying to make my point.” Peter pursed his lips.

“Consider it made, now look at this.” Lydia pointed to the trunk of a nearby tree.

Peter sauntered over to the tree, he saw the four deep claw marks that had been etched into the bark. There was dried blood deep in the claw marks, and the tree next to it had a bloody imprint on its trunk. Peter could immediately tell the difference between the two types of blood, but he wanted to see if Erica could.

“What do you smell?” Peter asked.

Erica sighed, she leaned into the tree with the claw marks and inhaled, “This smells like Derek.”

“Correct.” Peter nodded, “One point.”

Erica suppressed another eye roll, she walked over to the next trunk, took a deep breath, and immediately recoiled. She scrubbed at her eyes, turning away from the tree as fast as she could.

“Holy shit, that smells terrible.” Erica coughed.

“I told you you’d know what you were smelling for when you found it.” Peter smirked, “I caught the scent the second we stepped behind the church.”

“I thought that was just a dead animal.” Erica sneezed.

“A dead animal smells different.” Peter licked his lips, grinning, “Much more appetizing.”

“You’re insufferable.” Lydia rolled her eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Miss Martin.” Peter tipped his head at her, “Erica, can you track it now?”

Erica nodded, “Yeah.”

Peter flapped his wrist at her, “Go on then.”

Erica turned her head in the direction of the wind, then immediately jerked it to the side. She wasn’t running as she followed the scent, but she was moving considerably faster than she had been before. Lydia didn’t seem to have a problem keeping up, but Peter would have preferred if they moved faster.

Regardless, Erica led them about a mile into the woods behind the church by the time she stopped in the middle of a small clearing.

“The trail ends here.” Erica said, “I don’t smell anything.”

Peter inhaled deeply, he wasn’t catching the scent of the Aswang past their current position either.

“That’s annoying.”

“Look at this.” Erica said, pointing to droplets of blood spattered across leaves, “It’s a mixture of Derek, something human, and the Aswang.”

The blood spatter fanned out several feet in both directions. Peter examined it further, and he found tiny droplets of blood splattered against the bottoms of nearby tree trunks.

“It flew away.” Lydia said, pointing towards the clouds, “That’s why the trail ends, because it goes upward.”

“It looks like that is the case.” Peter said, “Commendable job tracking it this far, Erica. Seeing as how we do not have wings, there isn’t much more we can do.”

“At least this means we can get out of the forest now.” Erica pulled her hair back, “I have a date with Boyd tonight, can you help me pick out something to wear?”

Peter cocked his head to the side, “An odd request, but I suppose-”

“She was talking to me.” Lydia cut him off.

“Ah.” Peter nodded, “Of course.”

Peter’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he pulled it out to find Laura’s name on the caller ID.

“No one is dead.” Peter answered.

“Good.” Laura said, “That’s not why I’m calling though.”

“Oh?” Peter hummed.

“I need you to do me a favor.” Laura said.

Whatever Laura had for him to do was probably more exciting than his plans of sitting at his desk for hours until he was too tired to do anything but sleep.

“Interesting.” Peter nodded along as she spoke, “Do tell.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! i look forward to the comments! next chapter is a fun one ;)


	17. Date Night

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

Date Night

 

“Isaac really just fell asleep?” Derek asked as he idled at the red light in front of them.

“Totally. It was actually kind of adorable.” Stiles said, half laughing, “I sat down to try and hack into the school, which I couldn’t do by the way because they apparently just upgraded their firewalls, and I turn around after a few minutes of quiet to find Isaac passed out on my bed.”

“He must have been tired.” Derek said.

“He’s had an interesting couple of days.” Stiles shrugged, “It’s not every day that you have to stick your hands inside a werewolf and hold his insides open while your pseudo- adopted father, who is also a werewolf, does trauma surgery on his nephew who was attacked by a flying vampire monster.”

“You really do have a way with words.” Derek shook his head, “Also, vampires don’t exist.”

“Maybe not the traditional grr-argh vampires.” Stiles said, “But the Aswang is totally of the hiss-flap variety.”

“An Aswang is an Aswang, not a vampire.” Derek said again as he turned them down a side street.

“Careful, you’re starting to sound like Peter.” Stiles teased, he threw on a harsh accent to imitate Peter, “For the last time, a revenant is not a zombie!”

Derek arched an eyebrow, “Why did you give Peter an English accent?”

“I don’t know, dude.” Stiles shrugged again, “Peter just looks like he should have some type of accent.”

“That makes no sense.” Derek shook his head, “And don’t call me dude.”

“You’ll always be dude to me, dude.” Stiles smirked.

“How much caffeine have you had today?” Derek asked.

“Not a lot.” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek’s incredulous look, “I’m serious!” 

“I didn’t say anything.” Derek hummed.

Stiles rolled his eyes, “You don’t have to say anything, your eyebrows do the talking for you.”

“Oh?” Derek chuckled, he stopped the SUV at the sign in front of them and turned to face Stiles, “And what are they saying right now?”

Stiles turned to face Derek, he tapped on his chin theatrically before he leaned across the center console and got a closer look at Derek’s face. He wasn’t paying much attention to Derek’s eyebrows, he was spending too much time getting lost in the swirling colors of Derek’s eyes. He still had no idea what color he’d actually classify them, other than beautiful.

Derek’s lips were turned up into a thin smirk, and the stubble on his face looked good enough for Stiles to rub his own face on. It was tempting to call the entire date off and just stay in the SUV and make out for a few hours.

But, Stiles’ curiosity about where Derek was taking him slightly outweighed the need to get Derek’s tongue in his mouth. At least for the time being.

“They’re saying that you love me a lot, and that you think I’m the best thing since sliced bread.” Stiles said, leaning back slightly so he could get a better look at Derek’s entire face.

Derek cocked his head to the side like he was contemplating what Stiles said, after a few seconds he shrugged, “Close enough.”

“I told you, dude.” Stiles grinned, leaning back into his seat, “Your eyebrows are the window to your soul.”

“You’ll be really lost if I shave them off then.”

Stiles gasped, “Don’t even joke about something like that.”

Derek rolled his eyes. He turned the car off of the side street they were on, and it brought them back to the main strip of town. They were just passing the library, and Stiles couldn’t figure out where they were going. All the nicer restaurants were in the opposite direction, but they weren’t dressed for any of them, so Stiles didn’t think that’s where they’d be heading in the first place.

Derek was still annoyingly tight lipped, no matter how many times Stiles asked him where they were going.

“How’s Isaac getting home from your place?” Derek asked.

“Yeah…” Stiles trailed off, “about that.”

“What?” Derek asked cautiously.

“Well, I told dad that I’d text Peter so he’d come and get Isaac later, but dad was pretty adamant about me not texting Peter…” Stiles trailed off, “But I’d already texted Peter at that point, so.”

Derek huffed out a laugh, “Let me guess, you didn’t tell your dad that?”

“Nope.” Stiles said, popping the p sound.

Derek shook his head, still smiling, “Why not?”

Stiles shrugged, “Because I secretly thrive off chaos?”

Derek hummed in consideration, “Sounds about right.”

“Just call me Loki.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, “God of trickery and chaos.”

Stiles hadn’t realized how far they’d driven until they sailed past the sign that informed them they were now leaving Beacon Hills. He still had no idea where Derek was taking him, but as far as Stiles knew, there was barely any civilization out this way, and they weren’t heading in the direction of Beacon City.

The last of the buildings outside of Beacon Hills melted away, and soon they were surrounded by trees on either side. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he’d think Derek was taking him out into the middle of nowhere to kill him.

Or eat him.

Actually, Stiles probably wouldn’t mind the eating part.

“Seriously, where are we going?” Stiles asked, he twisted his body around so he could see into the back of the car, “I don’t see any kind of basket back there, which means you probably don’t have food with you, which means I have no idea what is happening.”

“You’ll be fine.” Derek said, “We’re almost there, just trust me.”

“Whatever you say, mystery wolf.” Stiles said.

He concentrated on the loose change in one of the cup holders in the center console. A coin at the bottom of the pile began to move slightly, causing the rest of the change around it to jingle. Stiles narrowed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he could to pull out the single quarter he knew was in the pile.

Derek’s eyes flicked down to the jingling change, “Having fun?”

Stiles didn’t reply, he didn’t want to break his concentration. He felt his magic searching though the pile, pushing and pulling until it found what it was after. A few moments later, a shiny silver quarter popped up. The quarter hovered in the air, and Stiles grinned.

“Loads.” Stiles finally answered, he floated the quarter over to himself, grabbed it out of the air, and shoved it in his pocket, “Thanks for the quarter.”

Derek flicked on the blinker, then pulled the SUV off the paved highway and onto a small gravel strip of road. The vehicle rumbled along as its tire crunched through the new terrain, and Stiles could see a building in the distance.

It was the only building around for miles, the gravel road widened into a bigger parking lot type area, and the building was surrounded by the forest on every side. There was a long wooden porch on the front that wrapped around the side of the building, a large mirrored glass window on the front, and a blinking neon sign above the door.

“Nowhere?” Stiles read the sign out loud, “Where the hell are we?”

Derek pulled the SUV up next to a bright red truck, put it in park, and killed the engine, “We’re nowhere.”

The place certainly looked seedy. There was a cluster of motorcycles off to the side, all emblazoned with fire and skulls, and more than few pickup trucks. The dark black SUV looked entirely out of place compared to everything else around it.

Stiles opened the door and hopped out, the boots Derek had told him to wear digging into the gravel below. He could hear music coming from the building, a soft rumbling of guitars and deep voices.

“You brought me to a dive bar!” Stiles laughed, looking at Derek over the hood of the SUV.

“Don’t let them hear you call it a dive.” Derek said, he slammed the door of the SUV and locked it.

“This is awesome.” Stiles said, bumping his shoulder into Derek’s when he finally rounded the front of the car, “My dad would totally kill you if he knew, by the way.”

“I’m not letting you drink.” Derek cut his eyes sideways, “Besides, the kind of alcohol that I’ll be drinking isn’t made for people like you.”

“People like…” Stiles trailed off, then gasped, “You brought me to a werewolf dive bar?”

Derek laughed softly, shaking his head, “It’s not a bar exclusively for werewolves, but it’s run by one.”

“Oh.” Stiles whispered, “Wait, how did you even know about this?”

“My parents were friends with the guy who owns it, his name is Tony. He heard Laura and I were back in Beacon Hills and reached out a few weeks ago. His daughter works here with him too, but she’s a human.” Derek said.

“Is this like his den or something?” Stiles asked.

Derek shook his head, “Technically the guy who owns it is an Omega, but the bar is open to anyone, so any werewolves that come are encouraged to behave. There’s never been any incident as far as I know.”

“This is so cool.” Stiles said.

“I knew you’d like it.” Derek circled his arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him in close to his side, “They also have the best fried pickles you’ll ever eat.”

Stiles’ stomach rumbled as they walked up the front steps to the bar, “You really do know the way to my heart.”

 

X

 

“Are you sure I should wear the boots?”

Lydia sighed from the other side of the phone screen, “Erica, I left your house five minutes ago, my answer has not changed.”

“I know, I know.” Erica groaned, flopping back onto her bed, “I’m sorry, I’m just nervous!”

“You have nothing to be nervous about.” Lydia said, about as gently as Lydia could say something, “You’ve been out with him before.”

“This is the first official date though!” Erica said, she felt a jolt of anxiety and thrill, “It’s my first official date _ever_.”

“You’ll be fine.” Lydia said again, “I promise, and you know I would tell you if I thought it was going to be a disaster.”

Erica glared at her, “Such a ringing endorsement.”

Lydia shrugged, “I’m nothing if not honest.”

Just as Erica was beginning to feel herself settle, the doorbell rang through the house. She winced slightly, her new sense of hearing still wasn’t used to its unusually high pitched sound, and then a boulder of nervous settled itself deep in the pit of her stomach.

“Erica, sweetie!” Her mother called from downstairs, “Boyd is here.”

“Oh god.” Erica groaned, “Oh god, he’s here.”

Lydia snapped her fingers, the sound deafening even over their digital connection, “Snap out of it! You’ve fought a Wendigo, you can go on a date with a cute boy.”

“Right.” Erica took a deep breath, “A date is nothing compared to a bloodthirsty monster who wants to crunch on my bones.”

“Stop listening to Stiles describe things.” Lydia rolled her eyes.

Erica took another breath, then slowly released it, “OK. I’m ready.”

“Good.” Lydia nodded, “Oh, one more thing.”

“What?” Erica asked.

“I put a condom in the front zipper pocket of your purse.” Lydia said nonchalantly.

“Lydia!” Erica shrieked.

“What?” Lydia cocked her head to the side, “Werewolves can still get pregnant too, and you should at least be prepared.”

Erica’s eyes flashed golden, “Stop talking or I’m ripping your throat out the next time I see you.”

“Have fun!” Lydia grinned, she blew a kiss just before the call ended.

Erica grabbed for her purse, ripping it off the desk. It was a simple black leather purse, and Erica was ready to tear it apart to find the condom that Lydia left in it. She searched through every pocket, coming up empty, then her phone buzzed.

 

**FROM: Lydia: I was kidding. Got your mind off it, right?**

Erica let out a surprised laugh, it bubbled up into slightly hysteria just before she managed to pull herself together. Lydia had an interesting idea of helping, but she couldn’t deny that it worked.

Slightly.

Erica was still going to rip her throat out though.

Slightly.

She could hear Boyd talking to her parents down below, and Erica didn’t want to wait for the small talk to turn embarrassing. She gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. Her jeans were tight, her boots were just the right shade of black, and her top was cut low enough to be exciting, but modest enough to leave a bit to the imagination.

She ran a hand through her hair to give it more volume, she’d overheard Boyd talking to himself about how he loved her curly hair, so she’d be damned if she didn’t give it to him.

Erica clenched and unclenched her fists several times, took a deep breath, and smirked as she looked her reflection in the eye, “Damn, I do look good.”

Boyd was standing at the bottom of the stairs when she finally got there. He was relaxed, casual, his face was lit with a bright smile as he talked to her mom. His shoulders looked massive in the tightly fitted white shirt he was wearing, and the jeans weren’t so bad either.

“Damn.” Erica whispered to herself.

Boyd’s smile grew when he saw her, “Hey.”

“Hi yourself.” Erica smiled back, “You look good.”

“Thanks.” Boyd said, “You do too.”

“I promised I wouldn’t take pictures, but now I’m wishing I hadn’t.” Erica’s dad laughed.

“Oh god,” Erica groaned, “please get me out of here.”

Boyd held out his hand, and Erica took it instantly, “I promise I’ll have her back at a reasonable time.”

Her mom leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” Erica smiled at her, “I will.”

“Not too much fun!” Her dad added, laughter abound.

Erica rolled her eyes, “God, you’re such a nerd.”

Erica practically herded Boyd out the door. The front light flipped on as soon as they were on the porch, and Erica nearly dragged Boyd to the door of his car to get away from her parents’ watchful eyes.

“What exactly qualifies as a reasonable time?” Erica asked.

“I don’t know actually.” Boyd rubbed the back of his head, “They didn’t give you a curfew?”

“Nope.” Erica shook her head, “I guess they can’t complain when I come crawling back through the door at five in the morning now.”

Boyd laughed, shaking his head, “Let’s not chance it.”

“Live a little, Vernon.” Erica grinned, “The night is young, and so are we.”

Boyd rolled his eyes, “Oh yeah, think of all the trouble we could get into. Beacon Hills is one hell of a wild place.”

Erica poked Boyd lightly in the chest, she let her finger linger for an extra second, “You have no idea.”

 

X

 

A subtle movement outside Allison’s bedroom window caught her attention.

The wind blew, and the leaves in the tree shifted. Something was different though; the leaves didn’t move like they normally did. Something was blocking the air as it blew through the branches, obstructing the wind.

Allison sat her book down on the edge of the bed, and her gun was in her hand before she could even blink again. She flipped the safety off, racked a bullet into the chamber, and walked over to the window.

There was something in the tree. She could just barely make out a shadowed silhouette in the darkness, whatever it was hadn’t come close enough to set off the lights connected to the motion sensor, but it was a close thing.

She opened her window and held the gun towards the tree, her finger ready on the trigger.

“Wait!” A voice came from the tree, followed by the glow of two familiar, golden eyes.

Allison stared at the tree, her eyes flicked down to her gun briefly, “Scott?”

Scott’s head poked out from between the branches, at least he had the decency to look embarrassed, “Uh, hi.”

“Are you insane?” Allison hissed, “I could have shot you!”

“But you didn’t.” Scott said, “You can lower the gun now though.”

Allison’s grip on the gun loosened, she flicked the safety back on and ejected the bullet from the chamber before setting the gun back onto the bench by the window.

“This is beyond stupid, Scott.” Allison stared at him in disbelief, “Even if I didn’t shoot you, what if someone saw you? What if _Gerard_ saw you? He knows about you.”

“I know.” Scott said, “Stiles showed me the map. I just…I needed to come make sure you were OK.”

“Scott…” Allison sighed, “It’s not safe.”

“You’re the only one home.” Scott said, “I wouldn’t have stayed if I heard anyone else in the house.”

“Gerard and my dad are out, but they could come back any second.” Allison shook her head.

“I’ll hear the car before you do.” Scott pointed out, “I’m sorry, I just needed to see you. After the other day…”

Allison ran a hand through her hair as she tried to fight a war between the two different parts of herself. It was eerily similar to the other day when she’d shown up at Scott’s window, and she couldn’t exactly judge him when she’d done the same thing. It was nice that he cared, and it felt so good to see him, but Allison’s hypervigilance was screaming at her to make him leave.

Allison could allow herself a moment of weakness, but only a moment.

“Fine.” Allison took a step back from the window, “Come inside.”

Scott’s face brightened instantly, and it was too cute for Allison to resist. She smiled as Scott vaulted himself from the tree and onto her roof, he slipped inside the window quickly just as the flood lights outside lit the grounds up like the prison it was.

“Hi.” Scott said, smiling.

“Hi.” Allison said.

She reached out and plucked a leaf out of his hair, watching it twist in the air as it fell down towards the carpet.

“How are you?” Scott asked.

Allison took a step backwards until she found the edge of her bed, she sat on it before she answered, “I’m surviving.”

“I hate this.” Scott said, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Allison said.

“Have you talked to your dad?” Scott asked, “Did he tell you anything else about your mom?”

Allison shook her head, “No. But I don’t think he knows much more than I do. At least I hope he doesn’t.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Scott asked.

“No.” Allison said immediately, “I don’t want to risk him getting hurt. I don’t trust Gerard, especially after what he did to my mom.”

“You think Gerard would actually hurt your dad?” Scott frowned, “He’s his son.”

“You don’t know Gerard.”

Allison drummed her fingers against the cover of her book. An awkward silence stretched out between her and Scott, with Scott standing as still as he possibly could by the window. Allison wasn’t sure what to do, it was a problem she didn’t have the energy to solve.

Scott’s eyes flicked down to the book, “What’re you reading?”

“The Wind in the Willows,” Allison said, grateful that Scott finally said something, “have you read it?”

Scott shook his head, “No.”

This Allison could do, she picked up the book and opened it to the first page.

“It’s one of my favorites.” Allison smiled, “Sit down, I’ll read you some of it.”

Scott smiled in return, he sat down on the floor in front of the bed, his legs crossed like he was a child being read to at the library.

 

X

 

A part of Laura got a primal thrill out of the way Jordan’s pulse quickened when he saw her. She supposed it was similar to the jolt of excitement she got during a fight, or when she was running out under the moonlight. It was the feeling of power, of knowing that you meant something.

“You look amazing.” Jordan said.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door of her building. Her loose white sink blouse was tucked purposefully sloppily into the waist of her green miniskirt, and her gold colored heels glimmered just slightly every time the light hit them.

Laura tossed her hair over her shoulder, cocking her head to the side as she raked her eyes down Jordan’s body, “You did say dress to impress.”

“You’re impressive alright.” Jordan said.

He’d be mortified if he knew Laura could smell the scent that was pouring out of him right now.

Laura slipped inside Jordan’s car when he opened the door for her, and once he was inside, she asked, “So, where are we going?”

Jordan pulled the car out onto the road, “Isabella’s.”

“Ooh, fancy man.” Laura whistled.

“That’s me.” Jordan laughed, “Had to call in a few favors to get us a table, maybe throw the weight of the badge around a little.”

Laura hummed, “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

The drive to the restaurant was short, it was only a few miles from Laura’s apartment. It passed quickly, barely any traffic slowed them down. Jordan pulled into the parking lot of Isabella’s, parked the car, and then dashed out of his door to round the front of the car so he could open Laura’s.

She walked alongside Jordan as they made their way across the parking lot, and bit back another smile when he opened the door for her there too.

“You’re being awfully chivalrous tonight, Deputy.” Laura said, eyeing him as he held the door open.

Jordan followed behind her as she stepped through the door, “I told you I wanted to take you on a proper date, and I don’t do things in half measures.”

“You sure don’t.” Laura said.

It had been a long time since she was treated like this by someone, like she was something special. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a proper date, probably not since before the fire. Life in New York was relegated to making sure Derek was taking care of himself, barely scraping by, and maybe mauling a man in a club bathroom when the urge arose.

It was stupid, all Jordan was doing was opening doors and not being a dick, but it was still nice.

It made the part of Laura that had to lie to him hurt even more.

“Reservation for Parrish.” Jordan said to the girl behind the podium.

The girl smiled back, “Right this way, Deputy.”

As soon as the girl turned, Jordan looked back at Laura with a wide grin on his face. He silently patted the spot on his chest where his badge would have been if he was wearing his uniform. Laura rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips was fond.

They were seated at a table by the window, and Laura did get to pull out her own chair.

She also pulled out Jordan’s, just because she could.

“So, tell me more about New York.” Jordan asked once they finished giving their waitress drink orders.

“Not much to tell, honestly.” Laura said, “The first year wasn’t exactly fun, it got a little better each year after that, but it still never felt right. It did get a little better once I got a job bartending at night after my classes.”

Jordan tipped his head back and laughed, “Oddly enough, I can see that perfectly. You behind the bar as the hot, take no shit bartender.”

“I certainly fulfilled a few dreams that the thirteen-year-old Laura who obsessively watched Coyote Ugly would be proud of.” Laura said, “It was also pretty amazing to see the look on their faces when I threw them out of the bar.”

“I would pay to see that.” Jordan said.

Laura smirked, “You might get a chance to someday.”

 

X

 

Peter had a list of places he’d rather not be. They included, but were not limited to a house that was on fire, a hospital room, a basement with chains, the doll section of a children’s toy store, a greenhouse growing wolfsbane, and Noah Stilinski’s front porch.

It was funny how life often didn’t give a damn about what you did or didn’t want.

Peter stared at the front door to Noah’s house. A door he’d knocked on a handful of times before, waltzed in without knocking a few more times after that. He could hear the steady thump of Isaac’s heart upstairs, coming from Stiles’ room, and he could hear Noah mulling about somewhere deeper into the house.

Peter could have entered the house, gotten Isaac, and slipped out without Noah having any idea. It wouldn’t have been hard, and he could have had someone tell Noah about it after the fact.

He could have, but he still knocked on the door anyway.

Peter took a step back and waited. He listened to the sound of something clanging in the kitchen, a muffled curse that flowed from Noah’s lips.

And then, “Hold on, I’m coming.”

Peter counted the steps in his head before the door opened.

“Sorry, I was-” Noah cut himself off mid-sentence when he realized who was standing at his door, “Peter?”

“Good evening.” Peter said lazily.

“What’re you doing here?” Noah asked.

Peter arched an eyebrow, “I believe you have a sleeping teenager who needs to be transported elsewhere.”

“Dammit.” Noah mumbled, then let out a low breath, “Stiles told you?”

Peter nodded.

Noah sighed, “I told him not to bother you, I was going to take Isaac home once he woke up.”

“Because we both know your child listens obediently when you tell him not to do things.” Peter smirked, just a little.

“Damn kid.” Noah closed his eyes tightly and rubbed the center of his forehead, then he took a step back and cleared the door way, “You’re here, so you might as well come in.”

“What a wonderful invitation.” Peter deadpanned, “I feel so welcomed.”

Noah rolled his eyes, then turned his back to Peter and walked back into the house. Peter watched Noah’s back as he walked, and he wondered if Noah knew what turning his back to someone like him could be.

Regardless, Peter made the decision to step inside the house. He closed the door behind him, then locked it out of a not entirely misplaced sense of paranoia.

“I’d offer you something to eat, but I just finished the _lovely_ salad and salmon that Stiles left for me.” Noah said, with more than a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“No need, I’ve already eaten.” Peter said, he flashed a predator’s grin when Noah looked at him over his shoulder, “The woods are now sadly down two rabbits and a squirrel.”

Noah wrinkled his nose, “The worst part is that I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I’ll never tell.” Peter extended a single claw on his forefinger, brought it to his mouth, and mimed picking something out of his teeth with it.

Noah turned away from him again, he mumbled under his breath, “How is this my life?”

Peter leaned against the archway of the kitchen and watched Noah maneuver around it. It struck Peter that he’d never seen Noah dressed as casually as this since he’d been back. It was always either his uniform, or some combination of a shirt and jeans. But the Noah in front of him was dressed in a shirt that looked a size too big, had a rather large hole in the back, and loose-fitting sweatpants.

Noah was completely relaxed, and Peter felt a small sting of jealousy over that fact. He hadn’t fully relaxed since the moment he woke up from a magically induced coma.

Noah reached into the freezer and pulled out a bottle of beer, after a moment of hesitation he grabbed another one. The glass bottles clinked together as Noah held them in one hand, he closed the door to the fridge and turned around.

Noah held out the bottle, “Here.”

Peter eyed the bottle, then Noah’s fingers wrapped around the long neck of it, “You’re aware that has no effect on me, correct?”

“I’m not asking if you wanted to get wasted, I’m asking if you want a beer.” Noah rolled his eyes.

“Interesting.” Peter hummed.

Noah walked over and pressed the bottom of the bottle against Peter’s chest, he could feel the iciness through his shirt, “Take the damn beer, Peter.”

Peter plucked the beer from Noah’s hand, he extended a single claw again and used it to pop the cap off, “Thank you.”

“Show off.” Noah huffed, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a sip.

Peter copied him, tipping the bottle back to drink from it. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, but it felt wasteful. He’d never particularly enjoyed alcohol, even when it was mixed with wolfsbane.

After a few minutes of silence. Noah spoke, “You asshole.”

Peter’s eyes quickly cut to Noah at the sound of those words, he was already trying to figure out how he’d pissed off Noah without saying anything, but Noah was smiling when Peter looked at him, “Excuse me?”

“I just realized you lied to me.” Noah said, shaking his head.

“What are you talking about?” Peter asked, “How many of those have you had?”

“In high school, at Ginny Hester’s birthday party.” Noah laughed.

“Ginny Hester’s birthday party?” Peter cocked his head, he raked through his memories and came up with a vaguely fuzzy recollection of one of Talia’s fellow cheerleaders.

“It was a pool party.” Noah said, “I asked you if you were going to swim, but you gave me some line about how you were too drunk and you’d probably drown.”

“And you told me that you’d been a lifeguard at the pool over the summer, and that you’d make sure I didn’t.” Peter’s eyes went wide, “Jesus, how do you remember that?”

Peter didn’t even remember that until Noah brought it up, and Peter tended to remember a lot of things about high school.

“Because you looked so out of place.” Noah chuckled, “Everyone was dancing and drinking terrible beer, and there was the random freshman sitting at the corner of Ginny’s patio looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.”

It was all coming back to Peter. He could remember the night perfectly now, and he could still hear his mother and Talia arguing when she forced Talia to look after Peter for the night. Peter thought at the time that having to be babysat was demeaning, but the last time he’d been left home alone he’d broken three windows and two vases, so his mother probably had a point.

Talia put up a hell of a fight during their argument, but as soon at their mother’s eyes flashed red, the argument was over.

And that was how a fourteen-year-old Peter found himself at the 17th birthday party of a cheerleader.

“Our mother forced Talia to bring me.” Peter said softly, “I’d forgotten about that.”

“You were the talk of the party.” Noah said, “If I’m remembering correctly, Talia threatened to kick anyone who messed with you in the balls.”

That startled a laugh out of Peter, “That sounds like my sister.”

“Obviously you lied to me that day, since I really doubt the six pack of beer that Talia brought to the party was spiked with wolfsbane.” Noah rolled his eyes, “I just thought the freshman couldn’t handle his alcohol.”

Peter remembered exactly why he lied now.

“I was sober as a priest.” Peter admitted.

Noah huffed out another laugh, “And as dishonest as the devil.”

Peter raised the bottle to his lips and finished off the last of the beer, he sat it back down on the counter once he was done, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, “Some things never change.”

 

X

 

“I’m serious, that was the worst movie I’ve ever seen.” Erica laughed, she angled her body in the seat so she could see more of Boyd as he drove.

“It wasn’t _that_ bad.” Boyd insisted.

“You’re just saying that because you picked the movie.” Erica flicked him on the shoulder, “I don’t know if I can keep going on dates with you if you’re going to take me to see shitty movies every time.”

Boyd winced, slapping his palm over his heart, “Ooh, that hurts.”

“You know what else hurts?” Erica asked, “My brain after having to sit through that mind-numbing movie for two hours.”

“Fine, fine. I surrender.” Boyd laughed, “You can plan our next date. Deal?”

“Deal.” Erica nodded.

Then immediately started freaking out inside.

Erica’s eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard. It was about twenty minutes until midnight, they’d make it home just before her parents started to worry too much. You’d think that their daughter becoming a werewolf would lessen their worry, but it had the opposite effect.

Especially on her mother.

Erica reached down and pulled her phone out of her purse, swiping it open to send a text to her mom, but something slammed into the side of Boyd’s truck before she could.

The sound of the impact echoed through Erica’s ears, whatever slammed into the driver’s side of the truck hit it hard enough to push it off the road. The side of Erica’s head slammed against the window, she felt a brief jolt of pain before she heard the glass crack where it hit.

Boyd was scrambling to keep his hands on the wheel as the car skidded off the road. His arms were locked into place as he held on, and she could see his foot searching for the brake. He finally found it, and he slammed his foot down on it. Erica’s body jerked forward, her chest straining against the seatbelt as the truck came to an immediate stop.

“Holy shit.” Boyd said, his voice shaking, “Are you OK?”

“Yeah.” Erica said, “Are you?”

“I think.” Boyd slowly turned to look at her, “Holy shit, did your head hit the window?”

Erica looked back at the window, the glass was broken and already starting to spiderweb out from the point of impact. If she was a normal person, she’d either be unconscious, or dead.

“No.” Erica shook her head, “It was probably a rock or something outside.”

“Oh. OK.” Boyd said slowly, he was blinking rapidly, still a little dazed.

“What happened?” Erica asked.

“I don’t know.” Boyd said, “I was just driving…and then something hit the side of the truck.”

Erica turned around in her seat to look out the back window of the truck. She couldn’t see anything, there wasn’t another car anywhere around that could have possibly hit them. There was only one thing left for her to do, she turned her head to the side and tried to block out everything else so she could hear outside the car.

Boyd was still silent, and he killed the engine of the car, so the only sound she could hear was both of their rapid pulses. Just when she was about to give up, she heard what sounded like wings flapping somewhere overhead. She looked out the back window again, and a dark shadow crossed over the strip of road that was illuminated by the moonlight.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Erica whispered to herself.

Boyd unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed for the handle of his door, “I…I need to check out the damage.”

“No!” Erica yelled, leaning across the center console to grab him.

Boyd looked back at her, startled, “What?”

“You can’t go out there!” Erica worriedly said.

“Why?” Boyd asked.

“What if…” Erica’s mind was racing trying to come up with a believable excuse, “What if we were hit by a bear?”

“A bear?” Boyd repeated, “Erica…”

“No!” Erica said seriously, “There’s been bears in the area, what if one ran into the side of your truck and is still out there somewhere?”

“If a bear hit us, it’s probably injured too.” Boyd said.

“Exactly!” Erica said, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to run into a pissed off, injured bear.”

“What are we supposed to do then? Just sit here?” Boyd reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, which was cracked and broken, “Shit. I can’t even call anyone.”

Erica’s phone was laying on the floorboard. She reached down and grabbed it, the screen was cracked, but it still turned on.

“I’ll call someone.” Erica said.

Boyd dropped his head back against the seat, “Tell them to bring bear repellent I guess.”

Erica hit the first contact she saw in her recent list, the phone started ringing, and she hoped they were still awake, “Pick up, pick up.”

A few seconds later, Lydia answered the phone, “This better be important, I’m hacking the schoolboard right now.”

“Boyd and I were just hit by a bear.” Erica said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

“You were what?” Lydia asked, clearly confused.

“Boyd was driving, and his truck was hit by a _bear_.” Erica repeated.

“Shit.” Lydia said, clearly realizing what she meant now, “Are you both OK? Where are you?”

“We’re fine, Boyd is conscious.” Erica said, “We’re on Mulberry, probably twenty minutes away from my house.”

Erica heard the sound of keys jingling, “I’m on my way. Is the Aswang still around?”

Erica didn’t have to listen for the Aswang, she could smell the bitter scent of it in the air grow stronger as it got closer.

“Shit.” Erica hissed, “Yes.”

 

X

 

“It takes all sorts to make a world.” Allison read out loud from the book.

Scott’s head was resting on her knee, his eyes were closed, but he was still awake and smiling. She glanced at the clock, it had been nearly two hours since Scott climbed through her window, and it was getting harder for her to want him to leave.

“That’s a wise badger.” Scott said, his eyes still closed, “Is there such a thing as a werebadger?”

Allison laughed softly, “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Good.” Scott said seriously as he opened his eyes, “Have you ever seen a badger? It would be terrifying.”

“I’ll check our bestiary in the morning just to be safe.” Allison smiled, patting him on the head.

“How much of the book is left?” Scott asked.

“We’re about halfway through.” Allison said.

Scott frowned, “It’s getting late, I should probably go.”

“Yeah.” Allison said softly, “Do you want to borrow the book so you can finish it?”

Scott shook his head, “No, you keep it. That way I’ll have to come back so you can finish reading it to me.”

“Scott…” Allison trailed off.

“What?” Scott flashed wide, innocent eyes at her, “I’ve gotta know what happens with the toad.”

Allison shook her head, but she was still smiling, “Go home, Scott.”

Scott walked to the window, he had one foot on the bannister when Allison’s phone rang.

Allison read the caller ID, “It’s my dad.”

Scott froze, but Allison shook her head before he could say anything.

She answered the call, “Dad?”

“Good, you’re still awake.” Her dad said, his voice was hushed.

“I was just about to go to bed.” Allison lied, “What’s wrong?”

“I know I told you to take tonight off, but we need help.” Her dad said, “We’ve been tracking the thing that killed those boys in the church, we found it, but it’s cornered some civilians off Mulberry.”

“Shit.” Allison hissed, she was already walking to her closet and pulling out her weapons, “Send me your exact location, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Your dad found the Aswang?” Scott asked as soon as she ended the call.

“Of course you were listening.” Allison said, “Yes. I need to go help him.”

“I’ll come with you.” Scott said.

Allison stopped moving and stared at him, “Scott, you’re not putting yourself between a group of trigger-happy hunters and the Aswang, that’s insanity. I’ll be fine, just let me deal with this.”

“Allison-”

Allison cut him off as she turned around to grab something else out of her closet, “Scott, no. Please stay away, I can’t worry about you and everything else at the same time, not right now.”

It was impressive how a good night could be ruined in seconds. She’d been content and relaxed moments earlier, and the foundation was kicked out from under her without a second thought.

A sound came from the window, but Allison didn’t need to turn around to know it was Scott leaving without saying anything.

 

X

 

The song finished, and Stiles dragged the back of his hand across his brow to wipe away the sweat. The rest of the people around him filed off the small dance floor in the bar, and Stiles used his sweat free hand to high-five his dance partner.

“Nice moves.” Kelly smiled, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“Not too bad yourself.” Stiles laughed, “This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks, your dad runs a killer place.”

“He’ll be glad to hear that.” Kelly said, “He’s been talking himself silly all night about how happy he was that you and Derek showed up. It’s been too long since there was another wolf in this bar besides him.”

“Dude, I don’t know how you grew up with a werewolf dad.” Stiles laughed.

“It was very hard to get away with anything.” Kelly said.

Derek was still sitting at their table with a mug of beer in his hand, tiny flecks of purple floated in it, and Derek grimaced slightly every time he took a sip. Still, Derek looked looser and more relaxed than Stiles had seen him in weeks.

“Have fun?” Derek asked when they made it back to the table.

“Very fun.” Stiles said, he parked himself halfway on Derek’s lap and kissed him, “Would have been more fun if you were dancing with me.”

“We went over this, I don’t dance.” Derek smiled lazily.

“Yeah, well, I was hoping you’d find your boogie feet after a few beers.” Stiles said, “But it’s your loss, Kelly is a wonderful dance partner.”

“It was my pleasure.” Kelly said, “Stiles has a lot more rhythm than I expected.”

Stiles grinned at her, “It’s gotta be the magic, I had two left feet before.”

“A magical dancer, that’s a new one.” Kelly laughed, “I should get back behind the bar, my dad looks a little swamped.”

“OK.” Stiles said, “Make yourself available for another dance later though, I want to see how many bikers I can get to do the Electric Slide before we call it a night.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Kelly said before dashing back towards the bar.

Derek’s arm tightened around Stiles’ waist, “She’s friendly.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “She’s also a giant lesbian who is married to a harpy. Those are her words, not mine.”

“Ah.” Derek kissed him on the cheek, “I’m glad you’re having fun. Sorry I didn’t dance with you, you just really don’t want to see me try.”

“Trust me, big guy, I really do.” Stiles laughed, “You just don’t want other people to see you try.”

“You might have a point.” Derek conceded.

“I’m glad you’re having fun too.” Stiles said, smiling, “I haven’t seen you this chilled out in a while.”

“It’s nice here.” Derek said, “You’re nice, Lenny is nice, your ass is nice when you were doing the Wobble.”

“I take it that wolfsbane brew is also really nice?” Stiles asked.

“Yes.” Derek nodded seriously, “I might need you to drive us home.”

“You’ve got it, drunk wolf.”

“Not drunk, just buzzed.” Derek said, “I haven’t drank in over a year though, never felt safe enough to.”

Stiles smiled softly, then leaned in to kiss him, “You’re always safe with me.”

Derek smiled against his lips, “I know.”

Stiles got off of Derek’s lap and turned towards the bar, “I’m gonna get a glass of water, you want anything?”

Derek shook his head, “I’m good.”

About halfway to the bar, the sound of shattering glass stopped Stiles in his tracks. It came from the front of the bar, and Stiles looked over to see the giant window that stretched the front wall shatter as something flew through it. His eyes tracked a small metal cannister as it broke through the window, flew through the air, and landed on the ground.

“Stiles!” Derek tackled into him before he had a chance to react.

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ body as he took them both down to the floor, Derek was on top of him, covering Stiles’ body with his own. Derek kicked a nearby table, it fell down in front of them, cutting off Stiles’ view of the front of the bar just as the sound of a small explosion rang out.

 

X

 

Peter stood on the bottom step of the stairs in Noah’s house. Noah was right below him, his back to the door, his third beer in his hand. They’d each had another, and Peter’s continued insistence that he was wasting Noah’s alcohol had gone unheard.

Still, it was getting late, and Peter always knew when it was smart to retreat. They’d managed an extended conversation without either one of them turning snide, and the longer Peter lingered, the greater the risk of that happening became.

“I already told you, Isaac can stay.” Noah said, “It’s fine, Petey.”

“Yes, I suppose I should just go home to an empty apartment.” Peter rolled his eyes, “And you know I hate being called that.”

It was already happening.

Noah sighed, he opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, “You can-”

Peter immediately held up his hand, his palm facing Noah, “Do not.”

“I’m sorry.” Noah raked his hand through his hair, “For the other night. It wasn’t right of me to take my stress out on you.”

“Apology accepted.” Peter said hastily, “Consider it forgotten.”

Peter turned to head up the stairs, but a sound stopped him. He froze on the third step as he cocked his head to the side. It was a familiar sound, the scraping of metal, followed by a calm, measured breath, and then the click of a trigger being pulled.

“Noah!” Peter barked.

He dashed down the steps and grabbed Noah’s shoulder, pushing him sideways and knocking him onto the ground out of the path of the bullet that ripped its way through the front door of the Stilinski home. Peter felt the pain of the impact in his stomach immediately, and he looked down to see the growing red spot of blood on his shirt.

“Fuck.” Peter sighed as he fell backwards, “I loved this shirt.”

 

X

 

“This was fun.” Laura said as she leaned against the side of Jordan’s car, “Thank you.”

“I’m glad.” Jordan leaned in slowly and kissed her, he pulled away after a few seconds, “I’ve been dying to do that all night.”

“You could have kissed me any time.” Laura said.

“It would have been awfully forward for me to kiss you before we even finished out first date.” Jordan said seriously.

Laura rolled her eyes, “You’re such a nerd.”

“A cute nerd though, right?” Jordan asked.

Laura hummed, “You’re OK, I guess. Cute enough to invite back to my place.”

“Oh?” Jordan arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean, as long as it’s not awfully forward of me to do so on the first date?” Laura winked.

“Not forward at all!” Jordan said.

“Well then, why are we still standing in the parking lot?” Laura smirked.

“Well, aren’t you two cute?” A voice came from the other side of the parking lot.

Laura’s head snapped towards the voice immediately, she’d recognize it anywhere. She pushed herself off the car and stepped in front of Jordan, putting herself between him and Gerard.

Gerard slowly stepped out of the shadows, his white hair looked ghostly under the street lamp, and his silver cane clacked against the asphalt as he walked.

“What do you want?” Laura barely restrained herself from growling and flashing her eyes.

“Me?” Gerard feigned ignorance, “I just happened to be out for a stroll when I saw you and your adorable friend canoodling and thought I’d come and say hello.”

“Go, before I make you.” Laura’s voice dropped, it was deep, and not at all vaguely threatening.

Gerard frowned, “I don’t know what I’ve done to make you so upset with me, Miss Hale.”

“Mr. Argent, I think it’s best you get on with your business.” Jordan said.

“I thought this was a public place, Deputy?” Gerard smirked.

“Go!” Laura yelled.

Gerard took a step back, he held up both of his hands in surrender, “My apologies, I didn’t mean to upset you. I truly did just want to say hello.”

“You’ve said your hellos, now go.” Jordan said, he dropped a hand on Laura’s shoulder and squeezed it slightly.

Jordan could have been miles away for all Laura knew, she was focused solely on Gerard. She watched his every movement, prepared to do whatever she had to defend herself.

“I’ll be going.” Gerard turned around, walked a few feet, and then stopped, “Oh, give my regards to your brother. And the Sheriff, I hear you’ve been working with him now.”

There was a darkness in Gerard’s eyes when he spoke, it was the kind of darkness that only showed itself when something truly bad was going to happen. It made Laura’s hackles rise, she could feel her teeth starting to sharpen in her mouth, and her eyes flashed red.

“What did you do?” Laura demanded.

“Me?” Gerard asked, his head tilted innocently to the side, “I haven’t done anything. In fact, I’ve been standing right here talking to you the whole time.”

“What the fuck did you do?” Laura growled, she moved to lunge for him, but Jordan’s hand on her shoulder stopped her.

Gerard turned his back and walked back into the shadows without answering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a fun chapter to write, so i hope you enjoyed it! I look forward to the comments even though I know I'm going to be murdered about the like...8 cliffhangers lmfao


	18. Fright Night

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

Fright Night

 

Stiles’ head was pounding.

It felt like it’d been slammed into a brick wall, or, rather, a wooden floor. He could feel a small trickle of blood on his forehead, but he pushed it aside as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on. Derek was still on top of him, he could feel Derek’s breath hitting the back of his neck, which was good because it meant that Derek wasn’t dead.

The room was in chaos, Stiles could see people’s feet as they ran, scrambling to find their way out of the madness. The room was slowly filling with smoke, and Stiles’ already impaired vision was getting even worse. It was getting harder to breathe too, but Stiles suddenly realized that he could still hear things perfectly. There wasn’t a ringing in his ears, nothing sounded muted or far away, which meant that he hadn’t been close to the epicenter of an explosion like he’d originally thought.

He put it all together in his brain, and he figured that what he’d saw land on the ground and explode wasn’t a regular grenade, but a smoke grenade. It was the only thing that made sense, the bar was frenzied, but not nearly as much as it would have been if someone had thrown an explosive through the window. He didn’t feel any heat, which meant the smoke that was rapidly filling the room wasn’t coming from a fire.

If only he could actually stand up and see what was going on.

“Der, I appreciate you heroically throwing yourself on top of me, but I kinda need my body back.” Stiles said with his cheek pressed against the floor of the bar.

God, there were probably so many gross things on the floor.

“I. Can’t.” Derek said, the words coming out like they were being forced through clenched teeth.

“You can’t?” Stiles repeated, “Der, what’s wrong?”

Derek took a deep breath, it took him a few seconds, but he was finally able to find the words, “I can’t move my body at all.”

“What do you mean you _can’t_ move your body?” Stiles asked.

The smoke was growing thicker in the room, and Stiles was finding it harder to breath between it and the weight of Derek on top of him.

“I mean I can’t!” Derek growled, “It feels like something is holding me down.”

Stiles turned his head as best as he could, and he saw Kelly just off the side of the bar kneeling next to her dad. She had a towel over her face, and he could see her tugging at her father’s wrist to try and get him to move.

“Dad!” Kelly yelled, “We have to go, come on!”

It didn’t make sense, the only two people in the bar who seemed to be affected by the smoke the most were the werewolves. There wasn’t wolfsbane in the smoke, Stiles figured if there was then there would be a lot more pained screaming coming from Derek.

Still, something was happening.

“Have you ever felt anything like this before?” Stiles asked.

Derek was quiet for a few seconds, then, “It almost feels like…whenever I’ve tried to push against a mountain ash barrier.”

The words clicked in Stiles’ brain, and it suddenly all made sense. His eyes strained as he tried to focus, but he could see the thick flecks of black ash floating in the clouds of smoke. The ash was heavier than the smoke, so it fluttered down to the ground and collected itself in thin lines and piles.

“Someone threw a smoke bomb in here, and there’s mountain ash inside of it.” Stiles said, “That’s what you’re feeling.”

“It’s not fucking pleasant.” Derek said between gritted teeth.

“You’ve gotta fight back against it.” Stiles said, “Take a deep breath, and push. The ash isn’t forming any closed lines, it’s just gathering in the air and on the ground, but I think there’s so much of it that it’s messing with you. If I can get up, I should be able to do something about it.”

Derek took a deep breath, and Stiles could feel him trying to force his body to move. His body was shaking with the effort he was putting into it, and Derek’s low growls were right next to his ear. He felt Derek’s body shift slightly, enough for Stiles to be able to pull one of his hands out from under himself, but Derek’s body went slack after a few more seconds of trying to move himself.

“There’s too much of it, it’s everywhere in the air.” Derek said, panting.

Stiles let out a deep sigh, “OK. Just hold on, give me a second to think.”  

He had an idea of how to get rid of all the ash in the air, but it would require his full range of motion. There had to be something he could do that would alleviate the strain on Derek just long enough for him to be able to move though. He wracked his brain, mentally re-reading various books he’d gotten from Deaton or Peter. He came up with a few ideas, he just didn’t know if any of them would work.

It was easier now that Stiles had one hand free, he placed his palm flat on the floor and concentrated on trying to get a feel for everything that was happening around him. It was chaotic, and every time he tried to reach out with his magic, it felt like it was being pushed back. It was probably a fraction of the discomfort Derek was feeling, like his magic was drawing on Derek since he was so close.

Stiles took a deep breath and imagined all the air in the room gathering around him. He pulled in what he could from outside, he felt it draping itself over his and Derek’s body like an invisible blanket. His magic was drawing it in, then locking it down in place while Stiles worked.

He felt himself getting light headed, which meant the spell was pulling air from himself too. He hadn’t exactly expected to suffocate himself for this, but he only had to last a few more seconds while he figured out how exactly to end the whole thing. He was mixing several aspects of about half a dozen spells, borrowing from different types of healing, nature, and offensive spells.

He was basically playing Mad Libs: Magic Edition. It could either be the best thing ever, or it could fail spectacularly.

With one final push of magic, Stiles let out the breath that he’d been holding in, and the magic along with it. It exploded around him like a small sonic boom, the ring of magic that emanated from him pushed the smoke back in a perfect circle that surrounded himself and Derek.

Stiles’ lungs burned, it hurt worse than anything he could think of in recent memory. It was like someone had cut him open, grabbed his lungs, and started to try and rip them out of his body. He could barely breathe, bright circles that swayed back and forth filled his vision. They were all he could focus on until he heard Derek let out a relieved sigh, then roll himself off of Stiles’ back.

The removal of Derek’s weight seemed to help, the pain in his lungs ebbed, and Stiles could finally breathe again. Stiles gasped for air, sucking in as much as he could while the spell still lasted. Smoke was crawling up the invisible wall of air Stiles had formed around them, and he could already see it starting to seep through as the magic holding it up dissipated.

“You OK?” Stiles asked Derek through labored breaths.

“I think so.” Derek slowly pushed himself up, “What’s wrong?”

Stiles shook his head, “Nothing. I’m good.”

“You’re lying.” Derek said.

“OK, I’m totally lying.” Stiles conceded, “It’s just magic stuff, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal if you’re hurting yourself to save me.” Derek said.

Stiles shook his head, “I’m not, I’ll be fine.”

“Stiles…” Derek said, but Stiles cut him off by shaking his head.

“We’re not out yet, I still have to work on getting rid of the smoke.” Stiles said just as the spell keeping it back fell apart entirely.

The smoke rushed back at them like a wave, and Derek’s body twitched violently when it hit him. Derek’s eyes flashed blue, he dropped to one knee and dug his claws into the floor, and when he looked up at Stiles his face was completely shifted.

“Hold on, I know how to get rid of this.” Stiles said, taking another deep breath before the smoke hit him.

The spell to get rid of the smoke, and the ash along with it, was probably going to be a lot easier than what he’d done before. Stiles spent a few hours reading a book on magical housekeeping that was written by a witch with seven kids. There was a spell in the book that she’d used to clear her house of smoke after one of her kids set the kitchen on fire, it was simple enough to pull off. Stiles just hoped that the mountain ash in the air didn’t change anything.

Luckily, it seemed like all of the humans managed to make it out of the building, so Stiles didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him do magic. Kelly was still kneeling next to her father, but Stiles could see her watching him out of the corner of her eye.

He held his hands a few inches apart in front of his stomach, Stiles closed his eyes and imagined all the smoke in the room coming towards him. He felt a jolt of power between his hands, which meant that the spell was working. It was all a matter of believing it would happen, so Stiles believed that all the smoke would travel to the space between his hands.

He felt it grow in size, so he moved his hands further apart to accommodate the growing collection of smoke. Stiles opened his eyes and saw Derek start to stand, he ran a hand through his hair and brushed out stray mountain ash that floated towards Stiles instead of falling to the floor.

When Stiles looked down at his hands, he had a swirling ball of smoke and mountain ash in front of his body that was roughly the size of a fully inflated beach ball. The smoke swirled in the ball, sinewy tendrils lapping against the invisible confines of Stiles’ magic. The chunks of mountain ash moved every time Stiles did, it almost looked like a depressing post-apocalyptic snow globe.

With the smoke cleared, they could see the state of the bar. The entire front window was shattered, glass littered the ground in front of it, and the smoke bomb sat a few feet in front of it. Almost all the tables and chairs had been tipped over or thrown to the side in the haste to escape the bar, but nothing looked too badly damaged.

There were no dead bodies, so that was already a plus.

The only people left in the bar were Stiles, Derek, Kelly, and her father.

“You OK?” Stiles asked Derek.

Derek nodded as he pushed himself fully up, “Yeah. You?”

“All good.” Stiles smiled, “Kelly? How’s your dad?”

“We’re good.” Kelly said, “What happened?”

“There was mountain ash in the smoke bomb that someone threw through the window.” Derek said.

Stiles looked down at the ball of smoke in his hand, he figured he should probably get rid of it before it exploded again. Stiles pushed the ball away from his body, it slowly floated across the room and drifted through the broken front window. Once the ball was safely outside, Stiles released the hold his magic had on it. The ball popped like a balloon, and the smoke floated upwards while the mountain ash fell to a useless pile in the gravel outside.

“Mountain ash?” Tony, Kelly’s father, asked, “That means this was no accident.”

“No.” Stiles shook his head, “And I have a feeling I know who was behind it.”

“We should go check outside, the hunters who did this might still be around.” Derek said.

Tony nodded and started to walk across the bar, heading for the front door. Stiles and Derek followed him, while Kelly stayed back to make sure things were taken care of inside. Tony was standing on the edge of the bar’s front patio looking out at the crowd that was still gathered outside.

“I recognize everyone out here.” Tony said, “They didn’t do this.”

“What about in the woods? Do you hear anyone?” Stiles asked.

Tony turned his head to the side, he waited a few seconds, then shook his head, “No.”

Derek shook his head, “Me either.”

“Did anyone see what happened?” Stiles asked the crowd of people who were still outside.

“I did.” A woman said, “I was outside smoking, this big black SUV pulled up, threw something into the front window, and then sped out of here.”

“They didn’t stay?” Stiles asked.

She shook her head, “No. They hightailed it out of here pretty fast, I saw their brake lights disappear when they turned back onto the main road.”

If the car that threw the smoke bomb into the bar drove away, that meant that they never planned to actually attack anyone. It was just a warning, but Stiles couldn’t figure out why. They’d had a perfect opportunity to swarm the building and take out any werewolf inside, but they didn’t.

Unless that was the entire point.

Gerard was showing off, letting them know what he could really do if he wanted to.

Derek’s phone rang, he pulled it out of his pocket and turned the screen to face Stiles, “It’s Laura.”

“Impeccable timing.” Stiles said.

“Laura?” Derek answered the phone, his eyebrows immediately drew together, “Wait, slow down. What happened?”

Stiles walked over to Derek, “What’s wrong?”

“Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker.” Derek said, he pressed the button so Stiles could hear the conversation.

“Are you both OK?” Laura asked.

“We are now.” Stiles answered, “What’s the matter?”

“I just ran into Gerard, or he ran into me.” Laura said, the anger evident in her voice, “He made some not so veiled threats about Derek and the Sheriff.”

“My dad?” Stiles’ eyes went wide, “Laura…”

“I’m with Jordan, we’re on our way over there right now.” Laura said, “Don’t worry Stiles, I’m not going to let anything happen to him.”

Jordan’s voice came over the line, “We’re a few minutes out from your house, that’s where he was the last time I talked to him.”

“OK.” Stiles took a deep breath, he couldn’t let himself panic, he knew that Laura would do whatever it took to protect his dad, “The place Derek and I are was just attacked, someone threw a smoke bomb with a few extra ingredients through the window.”

“Shit.” Laura hissed, “You’re both OK, right?”

“Yeah.” Derek said, “It wasn’t anything lethal, Stiles got it under control.”

Derek’s smile helped calm Stiles’ nerves, but he still felt like he was about to vibrate out of his body with anxiety.

Tony’s hand fell on Stiles’ shoulder, startling him, “Go. We’ll be fine here.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, “I feel terrible, this is all our fault.”

Tony shook his head, “It’s the fault of the asshole hunters who did this, not you. Go take care of your dad.”

“OK.” Stiles nodded, “Derek, do you have your keys?”

Derek reached into his pocket and pulled them out, “Yeah. Laura, we’re on our way.”

“OK.” Laura said, “We just pulled onto the street, I think I see Peter’s car in the driveway.”

Stiles let out a slow breath of air. He’d forgotten about Peter, if Peter was still there, that meant that his father wasn’t alone.

It also meant that Isaac was still there, and that Stiles had to worry about three people instead of just one.

 

X

 

Erica held her hand flat over the necklace under her shirt. She could feel the mixture inside bubbling, it had been a steady vibration against her skin for the past ten minutes. It meant that the Aswang was still outside, circling them, just waiting to make its move.

If Boyd wasn’t with her, she’d have thrown herself out of the door to take it head on. She could have called Laura, and the rest of the pack, and they could end it for good. But she was with Boyd, and she had to think about keeping him safe before anything else.

Also, Erica didn’t think an army of werewolves fighting a flying bat monster would be easier to explain than a random homicidal wild bear.

“Shouldn’t we call the police or something?” Boyd asked, “Or our parents?”

Erica looked down at her phone, “Um…my phone’s dead.”

“Your phone was about to die, and your last call was to Lydia Martin?” Boyd asked, his eyes wide.

“She’s resourceful?” Erica offered, “I’m sure Lydia has the national guard right behind her, she’s persuasive like that.”

“This is insane.” Boyd shook his head, “Who gets attacked by a bear on their first date?”

“Possibly a lot of people? They’re just not around to talk about it afterwards?” Erica laughed nervously, then cringed when she realized what she actually said.

Boyd stared at her for several long seconds, and just as Erica was about to open the door and offer herself as a sacrifice out of embarrassment, Boyd shook his head and started laughing, “You’re lucky I like your dark sense of humor.”

“Hey, if you can’t laugh in a situation like this, when can you?”

Boyd’s reply was cut off by something thumping against the roof of his truck. It startled a scream out of Boyd, and Erica curled her hands into tight fists as she took a deep breath.

“What the hell is that?” Boyd said, turning his head up towards the roof of the car.

The rhythmic sound of wings flapping was clear even without Erica’s enhanced hearing, the necklace Stiles had given her was bubbling so much Erica was worried it was going to crack open. The Aswang was standing on top of the car, Erica could see the shadow it cast on the ground when the light of the moon hit it from behind.

Boyd could see it too, if his wide-eyed stare was any indication, “What the fuck?”

“Shit.” Erica hissed.

“That isn’t a bear.” Boyd said, still staring at the shadow.

The Aswang unfurled its wings, and the shadow grew in size. Its claws scraped against the metal roof, and Erica winced as the sound hit her ears.

“Boyd!” Erica yelled as she saw the Aswang’s hand creep down outside on Boyd’s window.

The Aswang pulled its hand back, and Erica heard the sound of it unfurling its wings. The silhouette on the ground changed, the Aswang’s massive wingspan was evident now, and it flapped its arms once before it launched itself into the air.

“What…” Boyd trailed off, he turned to Erica with wide eyes, “What the fuck?”

“We’ll be fine.” Erica said.

“Why aren’t you freaking out right now?” Boyd asked, “Is this some type of joke?”

“No!” Erica said quickly, “No, god, no. It’s not a joke.”

“Then why are you acting like you’ve seen that before?” Boyd asked, “Whatever the hell _that_ was.”

Before Erica could answer, the Aswang landed on the ground in front of Boyd’s truck. It didn’t look any less creepy than the last time Erica saw it, it cocked its head to the side and stared at her with vacant black eyes. It opened its mouth, and its long tongue lulled out, hanging there limp while its eyes darted between Erica and Boyd.

One of the Aswang’s fingers twitched, and its claw glinted in the moonlight. Erica knew that they couldn’t just sit around and hope for the best now, especially if it meant keeping Boyd safe.

“Boyd,” Erica kept her voice low, “turn the truck on.”

“One of the tires is flat.” Boyd said.

“I know, but we’re not going to drive away.” Erica said, she looked at him directly, “We’re going to drive into the Aswang.”

“The what?” Boyd’s jaw dropped, “You know what that thing is?”

Erica sighed, “Yes. It’s a lot to explain, and I will, but I can’t do that if we’re dead. So. Let’s not die.”

Boyd took a steadying breath, “OK.”

Boyd cranked the engine, it turned over with a loud, angry rumble. The Aswang tensed, it extended its arms like it was about to take off again.

“Go!” Erica yelled.

Boyd slammed his foot down on the pedal, the truck lumbered forward towards the Aswang. It wasn’t the smoothest ride, driving a truck over grass with only three functioning wheels wasn’t exactly meant to be done, but it still worked.

The Aswang jumped upwards in an attempt to avoid the truck, but they still managed to clip its leg. The center of the windshield cracked where its leg hit, and Erica watched through the rearview mirror as the Aswang fell back down to the ground.

“Reverse!” Erica yelled, “Run it the fuck over!”

Boyd threw the truck into reverse and hit the pedal again, but the truck only lurched backwards about a foot before it stalled out.

“Dammit.” Boyd hissed, “This piece of junk!”

Erica twisted around in her seat to look out the back window. The Aswang pushed itself up from the ground, completely ignoring the blood that was dripping from its leg. It curled its top lip back and flashed Erica an impressively sharp set of teeth.

Erica flashed her eyes at it and let her canines extend, she opened her mouth and silently challenged the Aswang.

Instead of doing what she expected it to, the Aswang’s head whipped around to look over its shoulder. Erica watched in confusion before she looked over its shoulder and saw what it was seeing, she could just barely make out the low beam of a flashlight in the trees on the other side of the road.

Erica turned her head to the side, holding her breath as she listened. She heard the dull crackle of a radio, twigs snapping as a large group of people walked, and the cocking of a gun.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Erica growled.

Several shots rang out, muffled by the silencers on the ends of the hunters’ guns. The Aswang jumped into the air, it dodged each of the shots, but a few of them hit the side of Boyd’s truck.

“What the?” Boyd looked at the ground outside, “Are those _bullets_?”

“Yes.” Erica said quickly, “And those guys over there don’t give a damn about what they hit.”

She was faced with two equally terrible options. The first being that they could stay in the car, hope the hunters didn’t accidentally shoot them, and hope that it would be enough commotion to drive the Aswang away. The second was that they took their chance running, the more distance they put between themselves and the hunters would at least make Erica feel better about one of their problems.

They each had their positives and negatives, but Erica decided that she’d feel safer if she and Boyd didn’t let themselves become sitting ducks. There was no guarantee that even if the hunters ran off the Aswang, that they wouldn’t come back for Erica herself.

“We can’t stay here.” Erica said, “We’ve got to run.”

“Run?” Boyd stared at her, “You want us to run outside where the flying monster and the people with guns are?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Erica tried her best to give Boyd a reassuring smile.

“I…” Boyd trailed off.

Erica took a deep breath, “Listen, like I said, it’s a lot to explain, but here’s the Cliff’s Notes. I’m a werewolf, and those people out there with guns hunt, among other things, werewolves. I’m not too crazy about going outside with them and an Aswang, but I’d feel a hell of a lot better about our chances if we’re not stuck in one place.”

Boyd’s jaw went slack, “You’re a…werewolf.”

“Yes.” Erica said.

She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that what she was about to do wouldn’t send Boyd into shock. When she opened her eyes, they were shining golden in the dark car. She let her face shift so that Boyd could see the obvious differences. She sat there silently while Boyd stared at her, she was too scared to listen to his pulse or check for any change in his scent.

“Werewolf.” Boyd said slowly.

Erica nodded, “Yeah.”

Boyd studied her for a few seconds, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them, “I can trust you?”

“Yes.” Erica answered immediately, “I’d never hurt you, and I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

The sound of the Aswang’s wings flapping overhead mixed in with another round of gunshots from across the road rang out. Erica and Boyd both ducked at the sound, but when Erica looked at Boyd he nodded.

“OK.” Boyd said, “Let’s go.”

Erica opened her door since it was the one facing away from the road, she rolled out of it and crouched on the ground while she waited for Boyd. Once Boyd was out and kneeling next to her, she pointed to the tree line that was just a few feet away.

“Run in front of me, I’ll be right behind you.” Erica said.

“What about Lydia?” Boyd asked, “Was she really coming?”

“Yeah.” Erica said, she pulled out her phone and called Lydia.

“I thought you said it was dead.” Boyd arched an eyebrow.

“Oh.” Erica blinked, “Yeah, I lied. Sorry. We really should run though.”

Erica looked up just in time to see the Aswang notice them. She pushed Boyd towards the trees as it swooped towards them, but it sharply cut itself to the left as the hunters shot at it again.

Boyd broke out into a run, and Erica followed close behind him. She felt a little safer once they were under the cover of the trees, it at least stopped the Aswang from being able to swoop down on them.

Lydia finally answered her phone, “I’m almost there.”

“Yeah, change of plans.” Erica huffed as she ran, “We kinda had to leave the car.”

“Why?” Lydia asked, a sharp edge to her voice.

“Funny story, a group of Argent hunters decided to join the party.” Erica ducked to dodge a low hanging branch, “I figured I’d rather take my chance outside than let myself get surrounded by a group of trigger-happy hunters.”

“Is Boyd still with you?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah.” Erica answered, “He also knows about the whole werewolf thing, I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“Christ almighty.” Lydia hissed, “Laura is going to have a heart attack.”

“I’d like to think that she’ll be too happy that we’re alive to be pissed off.” Erica said hesitantly.

Which was wishful thinking at best, because Laura was totally going to be pissed.

“You said you were on Mulberry, right?” Lydia asked.

“We were.” Erica said, she looked up at the sky, “We’re heading north in the woods now.”

Erica pulled the phone away from her ear as Lydia slammed on the brakes, wincing at the high-pitched sound, “I’m turning around. Keep going north, it should put you on Albany once you come out of the woods. I’ll meet you there, I’ll try to call Laura.”

“OK.” Erica said, “Thanks.”

Erica hung up the phone and slid it back into her pocket as she ran. She could hear voices behind them, and the necklace beneath her shirt was still bubbling, so the Aswang was around too. They weren’t safe just yet, so they had to keep running.

“Where are we going?” Boyd asked from up front.

“Keep going north, Lydia is going to meet us there.” Erica said.

“North?” Boyd echoed.

Erica pointed to the sky, “Just follow that really bright star.”

They ran for a few minutes, until Erica heard the sound of a gun cocking from behind them. She whipped her head around to look over her shoulder, and let herself shift slightly so that her eyes would adjust to the darkness even more. There were three hunters behind them, keeping themselves low to the ground as they moved through the woods.

“Shit, there’s a wolf out here too.” One of the hunters said, pointing in Erica’s direction.

“Fuck.” Erica had just enough time to dive to the ground and pull Boyd to the side before a single bullet flew past her head and into a tree.

“Stay down.” Erica whispered, trying to keep her body in front of Boyd as much as she possibly could.

“Don’t shoot, you idiot.” One of the hunters whispered, “Your gun isn’t even loaded with wolfsbane.”

Erica let out a sigh of relief.

She felt around on the ground for something large enough to throw as a distraction. Her hand eventually bumped against the jagged edge of a fallen tree branch that was about half her height. It would work perfectly.

She tapped Boyd on the shoulder, “On the count of three, start running again.”

Boyd nodded.

“One.” Erica pushed herself up into a crouch.

“Two.” Erica grabbed the end of the branch with both hands.

“Three.” Erica stood, hefting the heavy branch up from the ground and throwing it at the group of hunters behind them.

Boyd started sprinting to the north, and Erica quickly followed him as the hunters opened fire on the branch that flew towards them. She didn’t stick around to wait for the confusion to register.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Boyd asked.

Erica could hear the sounds of the road ahead, they were probably less than a mile from it.

She nodded, “Just keep going straight.”

Sound from Erica’s right drew her attention, she turned just in time to see the reflecting green lenses of night vision goggles appear from behind a tree. The hunter behind the goggles broke out into a run, the run turned into a sprint, and the hunter was heading straight for them.

“Boyd, stay back.” Erica warned, she shifted completely and dropped down into a combat stance as she extended her claws.

When the hunter got close enough, Erica lunged at them. She swiped her claws at their chest, but the hunter dropped to the ground before Erica could even get close. The hunter slid across the forest floor on one knee, they pulled a bow from their back as they ducked under Erica’s hand.

“Look out.” The voice was familiar, but it took Erica a few more seconds to realize who it was.

Erica moved out of the way as Allison reached behind her back and pulled an arrow from her quiver. She sat it in her bow, then fired it into a nearby tree. A second later, the sound of the Aswang screeching in pain came, and it dropped from the trees and landed on the ground.

“Nice to finally meet you.” Allison nodded at the Aswang, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It’s a pain in the ass.” Erica huffed.

“Anything I should know about it?” Allison asked, “Our bestiary is light on details.”

“It’s fast, and don’t let it get you with its tongue. It’s got…spikes or something. I don’t know the technical term, I just know it’s really gross and probably hurts a lot.” Erica said.

Allison fired an arrow at the Aswang, and another when it dodged the first one, “Good to know. You should get out of here, the guys with my dad are itching for a fight and I don’t want them to take it out on you.”

“You sure you’ll be OK?” Erica asked, “Lydia’s waiting for us, we can come back to help?”

Allison shook her head, then hit the Aswang with another arrow, “I’ve got it. I can keep this thing and the other hunters off you long enough to get away.”

“OK.” Erica nodded, “Thanks.”

The Aswang started running in the opposite direction, and Allison didn’t respond before she chased after it.

Boyd was staring when Erica turned back to face him, “Was that Allison Argent?”

“Yep.” Erica said, she lightly pushed his shoulder, “Keep running.”

Boyd turned to run, but it didn’t stop him from asking questions, “Allison is a hunter?”

“Yep.” Erica answered.

“I thought we were running from them?” Boyd asked, “Why did she help us?”

“Allison’s different.” Erica said, she could see the road now, “It’s part of that long story I promised I’d tell you if we didn’t die.”

Boyd cleared the tree line before Erica. She saw him skid to a stop, he raised his arm to block out the light from a nearby car. Erica ran up from behind, quickly shifting herself so that she was in front of Boyd again.

The car’s window rolled down, and Lydia stuck her head out, “Good. You’re not dead.”

Erica let out a relieved breath, “Nice to see you too, Lydia.”

Lydia nodded, then turned her head, “Hello, Boyd.”

“Hi.” Boyd said, “Are you a werewolf or something too?”

Lydia smirked, “Or something. Get in, we’ve got places to be.”

Lydia unlocked the door, and Erica walked to the car with Boyd following behind her, “Did you talk to Laura?”

“Briefly.” Lydia said as Erica opened the passenger door, “Something happened at Stiles’ house, so we’re meeting her there.”

“Stiles?” Boyd asked from the backseat, “As in the Sheriff’s son? He knows about this too?”

Lydia’s eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, “You’re in for a long night.”

 

X

 

A loud thump woke Isaac.

He responded on instinct, he threw his arm up over his head and tried to curl himself into as tight of a ball as possible. It took him less time to realize there was no danger than it did the previous time he’d woken like that a few days earlier.

He supposed it was progress.

Isaac sat up in the unfamiliar bed, he looked around the room for a second, and then remembered that it was Stiles’. He looked out the window, saw the moon in the sky, and wrinkled his nose. The last thing Isaac remembered was sitting on Stiles’ bed while Stiles cursed at his computer, and the sun had still be up at that point.

He reached up to his face and rubbed his heavy eyes, he must have fallen asleep without realizing it. It’d been a long time since that happened, and Isaac supposed that was progress too. He pushed himself out of the bed and stretched his arms over his head.

It was dark in Stiles’ room, but the light from outside gave him enough to be able to find his way to the door. Isaac paused with his hand on the knob, another loud thump came from somewhere in the house. He was tempted to write it off as nothing, but then glass shattered.

Isaac’s hand curled around the door knob as he froze, his knuckles going white. He patted his pockets for his phone, but it wasn’t there. He didn’t remember having it when Stiles was around earlier, which meant he might have left it in Stiles’ jeep.

It was a perfect time to be without a phone.

Isaac took a deep breath, then slowly opened the bedroom door. He stepped out into the hallway, and the first thing he saw was a trail of blood. It looked like it started at the top of the stairs, a deep red pool was soaked into the carpet, it went past Stiles’ room, and led to the bathroom near the end of the hall. The light in the bathroom was on, and even though the door was closed, Isaac could see a shadow shifting over the sliver of light against the wall.

There was a lot of blood, certainly more than Isaac was comfortable seeing. Whoever it belonged to was probably pretty messed up.

Isaac could hear muffled voices, one of them sounded like the Sheriff, so he wasn’t too worried about there being an intruder in the house. He couldn’t make out the second voice, but someone was obviously injured. Isaac shook his head, hoping to rid himself of any lingering anxiety, and walked towards the bathroom to help.

It’d surprised Isaac how good he felt after helping Peter with Derek the other night. He’d never done something like that before, he’d never used his hands to save someone. Isaac didn’t have a lot of experience with hands being used for much more than breaking things, but Isaac liked how it felt when he used his to help.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of blood.” The Sheriff said as Isaac got closer, “Hey, are you with me? Dammit. Hey, Petey, say something so I know you’re still with me.”

Petey?

“Stop snapping at me. I’m not a dog, Noah. And you know I’ve always hated it when you call me Petey.”

“Peter?” Isaac whispered.

“Liar.” The Sheriff said, “Tell me what I need to do?”

Isaac rushed to the bathroom, he pushed the door open to see Peter sitting on the floor of the bathtub. He was shirtless, and his stomach was covered in blood. There was a ripped up shirt pressed against it, and Isaac could see it rapidly turning darker.

Peter and the Sheriff both turned to look at him at the same time, “Isaac?”

“Peter! Holy shit!” Isaac gasped, rushing towards him, “What happened?”

“I’m fine.” Peter said, smiling, “It doesn’t even hurt.”

Isaac glared at him, “I don’t have to be a werewolf to know you’re lying.”

Peter’s smile faltered, “OK, maybe it hurts a little bit.”

“What happened?” Isaac asked again.

The Sheriff answered this time, the entire front of his shirt was covered in blood along with his hands, “Peter got himself shot.”

“Incorrect.” Peter said from the tub, “Someone tried to shoot Noah, and I pushed him out of the way.”

“Getting yourself shot in the process.” The Sheriff said pointedly.

“I’m sorry, would you rather I let you take a bullet?” Peter asked, “I’m sure you have a gun cabinet in this charming home somewhere, I can always remedy that for you.”

The Sheriff reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, he cringed when he realized too late that his hand was covered in blood, “Do you always have to be an asshole?”

“I got shot, I think that affords me a moment or two of spite.” Peter huffed.

“Stop arguing!” Isaac yelled, “It’s not helping.”

They both looked at him again, and Isaac saw the exact moment that both of their faces lost the anger they were holding on to.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” The Sheriff said.

Peter nodded slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

Peter’s face was getting paler, and Isaac was starting to worry. He’d never seen Peter like this, he’d always been larger than life, someone who could never get hurt. Peter was the only constant that Isaac could rely on in the few months after his father died, and seeing him bleeding in a bathtub was unsettling to say the least.

“What do we do?” Isaac asked.

“The bullet wasn’t meant for me, so there’s no wolfsbane in it.” Peter said, “It’s not going to kill me, but it is currently lodged somewhere in my small intestines and I can assure you it is as unpleasant as it sounds.”

“So we need to…pull it out?” Isaac asked hesitantly, “Like we did with Derek?”

The Sheriff visibly cringed, “This has to be some sort of record?”

“Don’t look so green, Noah. It’s not as serious as Derek. Just think of it as an incredibly realistic game of Operation.” Peter smirked.

Isaac bit back a laugh but failed, the visual was too insane not to.

“I hate Operation!” The Sheriff barked, “Stiles used to play it all the time, and it gave me too much anxiety.”

“The sound?” Isaac asked.

The Sheriff’s eyes shifted back and forth, “Yes.”

“Well, good news, my nose doesn’t light up when you touch the wrong spot, but I will probably scream out in pain if you poke my spleen.” Peter said.

The Sheriff looked like he was going to pass out. He took a step back and leaned against the bathroom counter, seemingly not caring that he was getting blood there too.

“Peter, stop trying to make the Sheriff puke.” Isaac said, “I’ll do it. Just…tell me what I need to do.”

“No.” The Sheriff said, “Isaac, you’re a kid. I’ll do it.”

“Noah? Peter?” A voice called from downstairs.

“Hello, Laura!” Peter yelled, “We’re in the bathroom!”

The Sheriff tipped his head upwards and let out a shaky breath, “Oh thank god.”

“Tell your boyfriend to hang up the phone, we don’t need an ambulance.” Peter said.

“Boyfriend?” The Sheriff echoed.

The voices got louder as they got closer; there was Laura’s, and a deeper one that Isaac didn’t recognize.

“Don’t call an ambulance?” The new voice asked, sounding bewildered, “Laura, there’s blood every-”

The door to the bathroom opened again, and a man that Isaac finally realized was Deputy Parrish stood in the doorway. He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as he took in the scene in front of him.

Peter craned his head up from the tub, “Hello, Deputy! It’s lovely to see you again.”

Deputy Parrish’s eyes flicked between everyone in the room, “What the hell happened?”

Isaac spoke up, “Uh, Deputy...”

Parrish shook his head, “Call me Jordan.”

“Jordan,” Isaac said, “this isn’t what it looks like.”

“It looks like you’ve got Laura’s uncle bleeding out in a bathtub.” Jordan said, his voice still stunned.

“OK, it’s a little what it looks like.” Isaac said awkwardly.

Laura shouldered past both of them, she dropped down next to Peter, “What happened?”

“Someone tried to shoot Noah, and I stopped the bullet.” Peter said.

“Wolfsbane?” Laura asked.

Peter shook his head, “My intestines are currently not liquefied, so I’d say no.”

Laura’s eyes flashed red, “Drop the sarcasm, I’m worried.”

Peter arched an eyebrow, but he didn’t have a sarcastic comeback like Isaac expected.

“The bullet is still inside?” Laura asked.

Peter nodded, “We were just discussing who gets to be the one to remove it.”

“I’ll do it.” Laura said.

“Oh, thank god.” Isaac whispered softly.

He would have done it, but he couldn’t say he was particularly fond of the idea.

“Or we could take him to a hospital?” Jordan offered.

Laura looked up at him, “Jordan, you’re about to see some things that you’re not going to understand, I just need you to be patient and I’ll explain everything to you. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

“Find out what?” Jordan asked.

Laura didn’t answer, she slipped a hair tie off her wrist and pulled her hair up into a sloppy ponytail. She held up her hand and Isaac watched as her claws extended from her thumb and forefinger. Isaac winced in anticipation of what was about to happen, and when he looked at Jordan, he looked like he was about to pass out.

Laura’s phone rang from where it was sitting on the floor, “It’s Stiles, will someone answer it and tell him what’s happening?”

Isaac reached for the phone, since his hands were the only ones not covered in blood, “Hello?”

“Isaac?” Stiles asked, “What’s going on? Is everything OK?”

“Your dad is fine.” Isaac said, “Peter’s in rough shape, but Laura’s here taking care of it now.”

“What happened to Peter?” Stiles asked.

“Someone tried to shoot your dad, but Peter stopped the bullet.” Isaac said.

“Someone tried to _shoot my dad_?” Stiles yelled, “How did Peter…”

“He stopped it with himself.” Isaac said.

Stiles was silent for a moment, “Peter took a bullet for my dad?”

“Yeah.” Isaac said softly, “Laura’s here now, we’re in the bathroom upstairs and she’s trying to remove it.”

Laura’s fingers were now inside the wound on Peter’s stomach, searching for the bullet. The Sheriff was watching intently, he’d gotten closer without Isaac realizing. He was kneeling next to Laura, his hand was resting on Peter’s shoulder, squeezing it every few seconds when Peter’s face would twist in obvious pain.

Jordan still looked like he was going to pass out.

“Derek and I will be there soon.” Stiles said, “Are you sure everyone is OK? You weren’t hurt, were you?”

“No.” Isaac said, surprised Stiles would ask, “I was…asleep.”

Stiles laughed softly, “Yeah, you were pretty out of it. OK, I’ll see you in a few.”

“OK.” Isaac said, then hung up the phone.

“I think I’ve got it.” Laura said.

Peter’s brows drew together, and he let out a sharp hiss, “Yes, I believe you do.”

“OK, this is going to hurt the worst.” Laura said, “You ready?”

“Yes.” Peter’s mouth was a thin line, “Just get it over with.”

Laura didn’t say anything, she just quickly pulled her hand upwards, the bullet coming along with it. Peter’s face shifted fully as he screamed, his eyes glowing blue and his fangs completely visible when he opened his mouth.

The Sheriff flinched slightly, but he didn’t pull his hand away, “Hey, you’re OK. It’s OK, you did good, Petey.”

Peter took several ragged breaths, then turned his head to the Sheriff, he bared his teeth, “I told you I hate when you call me that.”

Laura took a deep breath, then held up the bullet. It was long, silver, and definitely looked like it didn’t come from a simple pistol. Laura flipped it around, inspecting it under the light.

“How do you feel?” Laura asked.

“Better.” Peter said, “I should start healing soon. Thank you.”

Laura nodded, smiling, “You’re welcome.”

The room was quiet for a moment, until Jordan spoke, “Does someone want to tell me what the hell just happened? Your hands, or maybe why the man lying in the bathtub isn’t Peter Hale’s twin brother Paul, but actually Peter Hale _himself_?”

The Sheriff sighed, “I know it’s a lot to take in, son.”

“I’ll explain everything.” Laura said, leaning back against the wall, “I just need you to wait for a few more minutes, once everyone gets here, we’ll tell you everything.”

“As exciting as all of this sounds, I would like to clean myself up.” Peter said.

“OK.” Laura nodded, she stood up from the ground, “I’m going downstairs to wash my hands.”

“I’m taking a shower in my room, I don’t want Stiles to see my like this.” The Sheriff cringed, “I’ll set some clothes out for you Peter.”

“I can start trying to clean the blood stains on the carpet?” Isaac offered.

Jordan’s eyes darted between all of them, “What in the actual hell?”

Isaac figured it was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't gonna post this this soon, but i felt bad for the 15 cliffhangers last chapter so this is my effort to restore good will lmfao 
> 
> happy saturday, hope this one makes you less mad ;) i look forward to the comments!


	19. A Little Bit

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

A Little Bit

 

“Welcome to the Wonderful World of Werewolves.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Lydia roll her eyes. Scott giggled at his turn of phrase though, and that was the reaction that Stiles was going to focus on.

“Stiles is never allowed to do the introduction ever again.” Lydia said as she stood from the couch.

Stiles continued to ignore her, instead focusing his attention on Boyd. Boyd still looked slightly panicked, like he’d seen a ghost or something, which with their luck was probably bound to happen at some point. Erica was on the same couch as him, though it was obvious she was keeping a careful distance between the two of them.

Boyd hadn’t said much, but he didn’t strike Stiles as a man of many words anyway. The limited time he spent with Boyd only told Stiles that he didn’t talk as much, at least not when he was around a large group of people. Erica talked about all the conversations they’d had, so maybe Boyd was just more comfortable around a smaller number of people.

Which sucked for Boyd, because the entire pack was currently milling around Stiles’ house.

Scott had shown up shortly after Stiles himself, and then Erica, Lydia, and Boyd waltzed through the door. Erica and Boyd were still covered in dirt, and Erica hadn’t managed to rid herself of the twig that had been stuck in her hair for the last hour.

Laura retreated out back with Jordan after the general introduction, she’d explained everything to Jordan and Boyd, and it remained to be seen what was going to happen after tonight.

Or today, technically, since it was a little after two in the morning.

“You sure you’re not going to get in trouble for being out so late?” Scott asked Boyd.

Boyd shook his head, speaking for the first time in several minutes, “Yeah. It’s just my grandma and me, as long as I’m back before sunrise I’ll be fine.”

“How are you handling this?” Stiles asked him, “Are you taking it all in?”

Boyd stared at him, blinking a few times before he answered, “I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it, but…”

“I’m sorry.” Erica cut in just as Boyd trailed off, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this, I didn’t want to put you in any danger.”

“Did you ever want me to find out?” Boyd asked her, turning his head to face Erica.

Erica’s breath caught in her throat before she answered, “At some point. I wanted you to get to know me first.”

Lydia looked down at them from her spot behind the couch, she turned around a moment later and walked out of the living room. She paused in the archway, jerking her head to the side as she caught Stiles’ eyes. Stiles arched an eyebrow at her in a silent question.

“Privacy.” Lydia mouthed silently, pointing at the back of Erica and Boyd’s heads.

“Oh.” Stiles mumbled to himself, he reached out and grabbed Scott by the elbow, “C’mon, Scotty. Let’s go…do the dishes.”

“Dishes?” Scott asked, frowning as Stiles pulled him out of the room.

“It’s code for give them some alone time.” Stiles told him once they were inside the kitchen.

“Oh.” Scott said, “Duh.”

Derek, Isaac, and Peter were in the kitchen, though none of them were talking. Derek’s back was to Peter, and he actually was doing dishes. It was funny, Stiles had picked up on Derek’s nervous habits a few months back. He’d initially thought that Derek was just a clean freak, but then a pattern emerged where Stiles would only notice him obsessively cleaning when something stressful was happening.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist from behind, resting his chin on Derek’s shoulder, “I think the plate is clean, big guy.”

“Oh.” Derek said, like he hadn’t even realized what he was doing.

“I hear there’s a dirty bathroom upstairs if you really feel the need to stress clean something.” Stiles said, his breath lightly ghosting against the shell of Derek’s ear.

Derek huffed out a laugh as he dried off the single plate with a dish towel, “Peter already cleaned that one up. Family rules.”

“Family rules?” Isaac echoed.

“Your blood, your cleanup.” Peter said from his spot at the table.

His hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, and his head was hovering over the open glass like he was inhaling the steam. He was wearing a shirt that Stiles recognized as one of his dad’s old commemorative BHSD charity barbecue shirts. He looked better than he did when Stiles finally got back to the house, there was more color in his cheeks compared to the flat white ghost Peter had been before.

“Fun rule.” Stiles wrinkled his nose.

“Talia and I were the reason it was created.” Peter said, smirking.

Derek turned, and Stiles untangled himself from Derek and stepped to the side, “I never knew that.”

“I was chasing Talia one day because I was angry at her, I tripped over one of the rugs our mother loved to place all over the house, and I fell through the sliding glass door.” Peter said before taking a sip of his tea, “I nicked an artery, and there was quite a bit of blood before it healed.”

“Did mom help you clean it up?” Derek asked.

Peter laughed, “No, she just watched me clean it up. If I’m remembering correctly, I believe she spent the entire time eating popcorn as well.”

“I can’t even picture that.” Derek said, shaking his head.

“I threw peanut shells at her a few weeks later when she had to clean the kitchen because she almost cut her finger off while cooking.” Peter said.

“ _That_ I can picture.” Derek deadpanned.

Peter slapped a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

“Have you heard anything from Laura and Jordan?” Stiles asked no one in particular.

“They’re still outside.” Derek said, “I haven’t been listening to them.”

“I have.” Peter said, “They’ve been talking in circles for the last ten minutes.”

“Really?” Derek stared at him.

“What?” Peter asked, “I believe we should have at least a bit of a warning if Dudly Do-Right out there decides he doesn’t want to keep our secret.”

“Jordan wouldn’t do something like that.” Stiles said, “Even if he didn’t want to be a part of this, he wouldn’t do anything to hurt my dad or Laura.”

“Your faith is aspirational, but misguided.” Peter said.

Scott spoke up, “What do we do if he freaks out? Can Stiles like…wipe his memory?”

Peter’s mug clanked against the table as he sat it down, “No.”

Peter’s brows were drawn together, and his mouth was a thin line.

“Peter?” Derek asked.

“Dabbling in that kind of magic is not something any of us should want Stiles doing.” Peter said, “Even experienced witches with decades of experience avoid it.”

“I haven’t even seen anything like that in any books I’ve read.” Stiles said.

“And for good reason.” Peter said, “You have to tap into a very deep kind of power to even have a hope of accomplishing it. And even then, there’s no guarantee it will work with zero side effects to the caster and the person the spell is cast on. I’ve seen witches with decades of experience lose themselves all over a simple spell like that, or completely fry someone’s mind because the spell went wrong. There are very few situations where the risk outweighs the reward.”

Peter’s voice only sounded like that when he was completely serious about something. Stiles learned early on to listen to Peter when he sounded like that, he was the one person who’d seen more than any of them, and there was no reason for Stiles to ever not listen to him.

“So, no Jedi mind tricks for me.” Stiles said seriously, “Got it.”

Peter nodded as he stood up from the table and grabbed his mug with one of his free hands. He ruffled Stiles’ hair as he walked out of the kitchen, but didn’t say anything else. He walked through the living room, and Stiles heard the front door open and close a few seconds later.

“Stiles, is your computer upstairs?” Lydia asked.

“Yeah.” Stiles said, “Why?”

Lydia pulled a flash drive out of her pocket, “I managed to get into the school system and pull up the records of everyone who died in the church, but I didn’t have time to print anything out before Erica called me.”

“You actually did it?” Stiles blinked.

“What? Like it’s hard?” Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder.

“Uh, yeah?” Stiles stared at her.

After a few seconds, Lydia rolled her eyes, “OK, fine. I paid someone on the deep web to do it, are you happy?”

“You are beautiful and terrifying.” Stiles said, shaking his head.

“Thank you.” Lydia preened, “Now, can I use your printer?”

“Have at it.” Stiles waved his arm towards the stairs.

“Isaac, can you help me?” Lydia asked as she turned.

“Uh, sure.” Isaac sounded confused, but he followed her out of the room anyway.

Stiles’ eyes went wide as soon as he heard Lydia’s footsteps on the stairs, “Oh my god.”

“What?” Scott asked.

Stiles turned to Scott and grabbed him by the shoulders, “Scotty, go make sure she doesn’t look at my internet history.”

Stiles could only imagine the horror of Lydia having something to blackmail him over.

Scott’s eyes went wide, then he nodded in understanding, “I’ve got you, bro.”

Derek’s shoulders were shaking as he silently laughed to himself, “And what exactly are you afraid of Lydia seeing?”

Stiles’ cheeks were burning red at the thought of Derek knowing, “Oh, you know, just all the…scriptures I read in my spare time.”

“Scriptures?” Derek arched an eyebrow, he looked like he was barely stopping himself from bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“Hey, people can be very judgmental about religion.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest.

“Right.” Derek nodded seriously, “Do I need to be jealous about any of the scriptures?”

“Not at all.” Stiles shook his head, “They all look like you anyway.”

Derek took a step forward and reached out for Stiles, grabbing him by the hem of his shirt as he pulled him closer. Stiles let himself be pulled without any resistance, he splayed a hand across Derek’s chest as he collided, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of Derek’s shirt. Derek leaned down slightly and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead, his stubble scratching against Stiles’ skin.

“Are you doing OK?” Derek asked with his lips still close to Stiles’ skin, his words were slightly mumbled, “For real.”

“Yeah.” Stiles answered honestly, “My dad is OK, you’re OK, Peter’s OK, Erica and Boyd are OK. Everyone’s alive, despite the best efforts of a geriatric hunter and a flying vampire monster.”

Derek hesitated for a moment, but then he said the words that everyone had been avoiding, “Gerard isn’t going to slow down after this.”

“I know.” Stiles said, “But we’ll figure it out, we always do. We’ve got Allison on the inside, his secret warehouse is bugged, and Laura is close to finding his mole. And on the other side of the coin that wants to kill us, the info that Lydia got on the victims in the church should bring us closer to finding out who the Aswang is. We’re making strides, dude.”

Derek smiled, and Stiles kissed him before he could say anything else. His hands gently glided up Derek’s back until they got to his head, and Stiles tangled his fingers through Derek’s thick hair. Derek’s own hands were agonizingly close to grabbing Stiles’ ass, but the sound of a throat clearing from the other side of the kitchen stopped that particular piece of greatness from happening.

Stiles pulled apart from Derek to see Erica leaning against the archway into the kitchen, an evil grin on her face.

“Sorry to break up the party.” Erica said, though Stiles doubted the sincerity of her words, “Can I steal Derek? Boyd has a few questions that I don’t know how to answer.”

Derek untangled himself from Stiles, he ran a hand through his hair to set it back into place, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Stiles sighed, he stepped to the side and watched Derek follow Erica into the living room.

“I’ll just be in here.” Stiles said as he looked around the now empty room, “Not making out with anyone.”

 

X

 

“Are you going to say something?” Laura asked.

Jordan was sitting on the ground with his back to a tree, and his knees pulled up to his chest. It made him look younger, if Laura didn’t know any better, she’d think he was closer to Derek’s age than hers. Not that there were that many years between herself and Derek, but something about the downturned frown of Jordan’s lips made him seem younger, more vulnerable.

“I don’t know what to say.” Jordan tipped his head back until it hit the trunk of the tree, “This is a lot to take in.”

“I know.” Laura sighed, “I’ll answer any questions you have. If you’re confused, if you want to know more about…everything.”

Jordan shook his head, “I think I have a grasp on the whole werewolf thing. I’ve seen the movies, Laur.”

Laura couldn’t restrain a scoff, “They’re not exactly accurate.”

“I don’t mean…” Jordan trailed off, he took a breath, then paused like he was trying to collect his thoughts, “I get the basic premise, obviously I don’t know the details, but I saw enough upstairs to connect the dots.”

“You’re still angry about something.” Laura said, she inched closer to him across the grass so that the toes of their shoes were barely touching.

Jordan looked up at her, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, “How can you tell?”

Laura tapped her nose in silent answer.

“You can…smell it?” Jordan blinked.

Laura nodded, “I told you the movies didn’t know what they were talking about.”

A range of different emotions crossed over Jordan’s face, eventually he asked, “What does it smell like?”

“It’s different for each person.” Laura cocked her head to the side, “The easiest way to explain it is…burnt cinnamon.”

“Burnt cinnamon?” Jordan’s eyebrows rose.

“Pretty much.” Laura shrugged.

It was almost impossible to explain it to someone who couldn’t experience it. It wasn’t just a single smell, or just a small twitch of a vein in someone’s neck, it was the symphony of a body working together, and changing itself to fit whatever mood the person was in. How could she explain that? It was like trying to explain the color blue to a colorblind person.

“What else can you sense?” Jordan asked.

Laura tipped her head to the side in thought, eventually she smiled slightly, “Well, I could tell that you didn’t just come over to bring me coffee before we slept together for the first time.”

Jordan’s face instantly flushed red, he groaned and slapped a palm over his mouth, mumbling, “Oh god, do I even want to know what that smells like?”

“No.” Laura laughed.

They fell into silence as Laura’s laughter trailed off. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was just on the side of deafening. Laura wasn’t entirely sure what to do in a situation like this. As odd as it was, she’d never had to explain herself to someone she was seeing. They’d all either been meaningless flings with humans, or other werewolves, but there was never someone that made Laura care about what they thought.

Laura still wasn’t entirely sure how Jordan became one of those people.

“I feel dumb.” Jordan said, breaking Laura out of her thoughts.

“What?” Laura asked, “Why?”

“I’ve been running around this town for months doing what I thought was good police work, but now it all feels like a waste.” Jordan said, “It feels like I’ve lied to families of murder victims about what happened to the people they cared about.”

“You can’t think of it like that.” Laura said, “There’s no possible way to tell a grieving mother that her kid was killed by a creature instead of a person.”

“I had to comfort a crying woman who thought her child’s body broke down because of an electrical problem in a morgue freezer, but now I know that wasn’t even her kid to begin with. How am I supposed to look her in the eye again? What about the kids in the church? Do I tell their parents that it was a monster that killed them instead of a bear? No, I just have to keep lying to them.”

“I wish I could help you with that, but I can’t.” Laura said honestly, “I was raised to believe that protecting the secret wasn’t a lie. You’ve seen what happens when a small group of humans know about us, my entire family was murdered just for existing. Can you imagine what would happen if even more people knew?”

Jordan looked at her, “I’m not faulting you, Laura. I understand it, it’s just going to take me a minute to reconcile it with myself.”

“I know.” Laura reassured softly, “I’ll give you as much time as you need.”

Jordan hesitated for a moment, but then he pushed himself up from the ground. Laura stood up after him, she waited for him to walk about, but he lingered.

“I think I need a day or two to myself.” Jordan said, “To process everything.”

Laura nodded, “I get it.”

“I’ll call you?” Jordan asked.

“Sure.” Laura said, “Be careful though, Gerard is unpredictable.”

Jordan huffed out a laugh, “I’ve literally been blown up in a desert in the middle of nowhere, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

Laura didn’t know what else to say, so she just watched Jordan go. Instead of going back inside the house, he cut through the gate led to the front yard. She heard the sound of Jordan’s car starting, and then he was gone.

She gave herself a single second to wallow in the feeling of disappointment that was growing in her chest, but she quickly pushed it away. Laura had a job to do, and she wasn’t going to let Gerard Argent get away with anything just because she was upset about a boy.

Laura walked across the yard, she pulled open the sliding glass door and stepped inside the house. The kitchen was empty, but she could hear voices coming from different rooms.

“Pack meeting in the living room.” Laura shouted loud enough for the humans in the house to hear her, “We’ve got work to do.”

 

X

 

Peter lowered himself on the top step of the Stilinski’s porch. The tender skin on his stomach pulled against itself as he did, and Peter clenched his teeth at the small shock of pain. He leaned back slightly, snaking his fingers under the bottom hem of his shirt, or rather, Noah’s shirt, he lifted it slightly to look at the healing wound on his stomach.

The bullet wound had already begun to close, the thin, pink skin stood out against the rest of Peter’s considerably paler stomach. The wound was surprisingly small for a bullet that was as high caliber as the one that hit him. Peter’s reflexive tensing of his muscles had lessened the impact, it was the only explanation for why the bullet didn’t rip its way through him completely.

Noah would have been dead for sure, if not before he hit the ground, then pretty soon after. The bullet would have eaten him from the inside out, tearing apart anything it came into contact with.

Peter tipped his head back and looked at the bullet hole in the front door, he tried to imagine the trajectory of the bullet to figure out where Noah would have been hit had Peter not pushed him out of the way.

As far as Peter could tell, the bullet would have hit Noah in his heart.

Peter pushed himself up from the step and then walked forward until he was standing in the front yard, he inhaled slightly, trying to pick up on the smell of gun powder. He thought he could smell it in the wind, but it had been a few hours since the shot was fired, and there was no point in chasing down a ghost.

The assailant was long gone, and they already knew who was responsible in the first place.

Peter kicked at the grass in front of him harder than he intended to, and eruption of dirt flew through the air. Peter watched the clouds of dirt fall back to the ground and break apart on the stone driveway, wondering just how much longer the Argent family would keep trying to take things away from him.

The front door opened behind him, and Peter didn’t have to turn his head to see who it was.

“Hey.” Stiles said, his footsteps echoing on the front porch.

“Hello, Stiles.” Peter said, not moving from where he stood.

Stiles walked towards him, skipping the second and third steps down from the porch as he jumped over them, his footfalls got quieter as he walked across the grass, and then he was standing directly next to Peter.

“You took a bullet for my dad.” Stiles said after a few seconds of silence.

“I did.” Peter said.

“Did you think about it, or did you just do it?” Stiles asked.

“Is this twenty questions?” Peter looked at him.

Stiles shook his head, “I’m just curious, I guess.”

“I didn’t think.” Peter answered, “I knew I could take it, and I knew that Noah couldn’t.”

“You didn’t know if it was a wolfsbane bullet though.” Stiles pointed out.

Peter shrugged, “It was a calculated risk.”

Which was a lie, though Stiles wouldn’t have been able to tell that. The thought that the bullet could have been coated in wolfsbane never even occurred to Peter, he only had seconds to react, and the only thing Peter knew in that moment was that Noah would have been hit by the bullet if Peter didn’t do something.

The choice between taking a bullet or watching Noah die in front of him was surprisingly easy.

“I feel like I should hug you or something.” Stiles said.

“Unnecessary,” Peter said, unable to stop himself from smirking, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, turning his head to the side to face Peter, “Because my dad would be dead without you, and I feel like that deserves a hug or something.”

Peter sighed, he wanted to resist further, though it felt inevitable. Most things with Stiles were, for better or worse.

“Fine.” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“I knew I’d break you.” Stiles laughed.

Peter didn’t have a chance to open his arms before Stiles threw his body at him. Stiles was not unlike an octopus in the way his limbs seemed to circle around and grab him from every angle. Peter cast his eyes upwards in a silent plea for help, but none came. He gently wrapped an arm around Stiles’ back and used his free hand to pat the top of his head.

It was awkward, forced, and still made Peter feel something he never thought he would again. He could remember the last hug he’d given, and it was under much different circumstances.

“Ok.” Peter said after a few more seconds, “I believe that’s enough.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles said, untangling himself from Peter, “I won’t tell anyone you’re a big softie.”

“Thank you.” Peter said sarcastically along with a lazy upturn to his lips, “I do have an image to maintain after all.”

“I take it part of this image is being left alone to brood outside under the stars?” Stiles asked, and Peter could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Precisely.” Peter said.

Peter saw movement from the corner of his eye, he watched as Deputy Parrish walked around the front of the house and got into his car. Stiles moved to walk towards him, but Peter stopped him with a hand on the shoulder.

Peter shook his head, “Let him go.”

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked.

Peter silently nodded. Deputy Parrish started his car and wasted no time as he pulled out onto the street and drove away from the Stilinski home.

Peter turned his head back to the house, “Laura just went inside, I assume she wants to give a rousing speech.”

Stiles nodded, taking a step backwards, “You coming?”

Peter shook his head, “I can hear well enough from out here.”

Stiles padded across the grass, up the steps of the porch, and back inside the house. He listened to the sound coming from inside the house for a few more seconds before blocking it out entirely. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for a get together, being shot didn’t make Peter want to be around a large group of people worrying about the fact that _they_ might get shot.

Peter supposed someone, most likely Isaac, would tell him if he missed something earth shatteringly important. The only thing keeping Peter from leaving entirely was Isaac himself, and Peter was more than fine with waiting out the tedium if it meant Isaac got to spend time with people that he trusted.

The front door of the house opened again, and Peter sighed before he turned, expecting to find someone trying to drag him inside. What Peter didn’t expect to see was Noah standing in the doorway, his hair still damp from the shower he’d taken.

Peter arched a questioning eyebrow when they locked eyes, which Noah must have taken as an invitation. He closed the door softly behind himself, then walked across the yard towards Peter. He stopped just outside of arms reach, and Peter didn’t say anything.

“I noticed you weren’t inside.” Noah said.

“Have you come to drag me back?” Peter asked.

“No.” Noah said, shaking his head, “I just came to find you.”

“Well, you’ve found me.” Peter said, waving his arms out in front of himself like he was presenting a present.

Noah rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move away. He also didn’t say anything, and Peter didn’t have the energy to perform a one man show, so he let Noah toil in silence until he decided to say something. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, he didn’t break eye contact with Noah for nearly a minute.

The pressure must have gotten the better of him, because he finally said, “You jumped in front of a bullet for me.”

“Technically I pushed you out of the way and got hit instead of you, but the sentiment is the same.” Peter said, shrugging.

“How did you know it was meant for me?” Noah asked.

“I didn’t.” Peter answered honestly.

Noah stared at him, “That bullet could have easily been covered in wolfsbane.”

“I just had a remarkably similar conversation with the smaller version of yourself.” Peter said, frowning.

“Did you?” Noah huffed out a humorless laugh.

“Yes.” Peter said, “And I’ll tell you what I told him: it was a calculated risk. The odds were greater that I would survive, whereas you would have been dead before your body hit the ground if I hadn’t pushed you out of the way.”

“You said that to Stiles?” Noah’s eyes went wide.

Peter cringed slightly, “I omitted that last part. Despite what some people believe, I do have a sense of decency.”

Noah closed his eyes before taking a deep breath. When he opened them, he reached a hand out towards Peter. He must have changed his mind half-way, because he aborted the move before it crossed the invisible line between them. Noah pulled his hand back awkwardly, running his fingers through his slightly damp hair before licking his dry lips.

“Thank you.” Noah said.

The look on his face was wrong. He didn’t look like someone who was thanking another person for doing a good deed, or helping him in some astounding way.

Peter cocked his head to the side inquisitively, “You’re surprised.”

He heard the way Noah’s pulse jumped at the question. The way his scent changed just minutely, almost impossible to detect if you didn’t know exactly what you were searching for. It was guilt laced with anxiety, and it almost hurt Peter more than taking a bullet to the gut.

“What?” Noah frowned, “N-”

Peter cut him off, “I can hear when you lie.”

Noah opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. He repeated the process for several seconds, it reminded Peter of a goldfish struggling for air.

Floundering.

“Honestly?” Noah said, his voice was quiet, “If you’d have asked me twenty-four hours ago, I don’t know if I would have thought that you’d do what you did for me tonight.”

The knife in Peter’s gut twisted, it took everything he had inside to not let his eyes flash at Noah.

When Peter spoke, it was barely above a whisper, “You truly think that lowly of me?”

“What? No.” Noah frowned, “I haven’t exactly always been the best to you, Peter. I’m not proud of how I acted then, and I’m not proud of how I spoke to you the other night. I just meant that I never know what you’re going to do.”

“If you didn’t know that I wouldn’t let a child that I’ve come to care a great deal about lose his father, then there’s not much left for me to say.” Peter turned abruptly and started towards his car, “Tell Isaac to call me when he’s ready to head home.”

Peter wasn’t proud of storming away, it felt like letting the insecure teenager that was still inside of him win. He didn’t feel like the man he’d become, the man that he fought so hard to turn into to leave the teenager behind. But the only other option was letting Noah see the other side of him, and Peter would take retreat over that any day.

He heard Noah’s feet on the grass start after him immediately. He was brave chasing after an angry werewolf, that was for sure.

“Peter! Dammit, Peter. Stop.”

Peter didn’t stop, he was nearly at the front of his car now.

A deep breath from Noah, “Please don’t go.”

Peter opened the door, he had one foot inside when Noah’s voice came from the passenger’s side.

“Petey.” Noah said, his breath thin, “Don’t leave, not like this.”

Peter closed his eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. He was faced with another choice, he could either leave, or he could stay.

He hated that the choice was already made before he even opened his eyes again.

Noah was still on the other side of the car when Peter looked back at him. His cheeks were slightly flushed, and he had one hand splayed atop the roof of the car as if that would be able to stop Peter from pulling away if he tried.

“What?” Peter asked, his voice monotone.

“I’m sorry.” Noah said immediately, “I’m sorry for just now, I’m sorry for the other night, and I’m sorry for what happened at the prom, and afterwards. I’m sorry, Peter.”

Peter was slightly taken aback, “That is an impressive list of apologies.”

Noah huffed out a laugh, shaking his head, “I swear, whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I’m a stupid 18-year-old kid again.”

“You certainly have the same knack for saying stupid shit teenage-Noah did.” Peter deadpanned.

“You’re so different.” Noah stared at him, “I almost want to believe you’re Peter’s secret twin, but then you do something that reminds me of the Peter I knew, and I know that it couldn’t be anyone but him.”

“Things happen, and people change.” Peter said, “It’s no one’s fault, unless someone kills your entire family then it’s their fault.”

“Jesus, Peter.” Noah whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for things you cannot control.” Peter said, “As for your other apologies, I told you before that I wasn’t angry at you anymore, and I meant it.”

“I believe you.” Noah said softly, then he admitted, “I spent years trying to forget about it.”

That hardly came as a surprise to Peter. He said it out of nowhere, with zero prompting, like it was something that had been on his mind the entire time. Peter wondered how long he’d been trying not to think about it, and how successful he’d been.

“I’d gathered as much.” Peter laughed.

“Did you?” Noah asked.

“Did I what?”

“Try to forget.” Noah said.

Peter wasn’t sure if his answering smile was out of humor or sadness, “A werewolf never forgets, Noah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this chapter! i look forward to the comments! 
> 
> i'm really excited for the next chapter, i promise it will provide you with all the answers to the questions you may have after the last section of this chapter ;)


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